


The Seven Misfortunes of Lady Fortune

by Omeganian



Series: My translations [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Detectives, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Translation from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 68,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17896001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omeganian/pseuds/Omeganian
Summary: Seven years ago, all the walls of her room were covered in posters of the beautiful green-eyed blond, Adrien Agreste, who was not only a renowned model, friend and classmate, but the target of an unrequited love. Now, that love was but a dim memory, and the only Agreste photo, hanging on her door, was, for one thing, that of his father, Gabriel, and for another, being used as a dartboard. Also, she no longer called herself Marinette Dupain-Cheng.Now with a TV Tropes page.





	1. Marinette No More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ozero_Kate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozero_Kate/gifts).
  * A translation of [Семь неудач Леди Удачи](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14571069) by [Ozero_Kate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozero_Kate/pseuds/Ozero_Kate). 



Seven years ago, all the walls of her room were covered in posters of the beautiful green-eyed blond, Adrien Agreste, who was not only a renowned model, friend and classmate, but the target of an unrequited love. Now, that love was but a dim memory, and the only Agreste photo, hanging on her door, was, for one thing, that of his father, Gabriel, and for another, being used as a dartboard.

Also, she no longer called herself Marinette Dupain-Cheng; the pigtails have long since been replaced by a bob cut; the only things left unchanged were the round black earrings, a reminder of her heroic past.

Carefully stroking the napping Tikki’s head, the girl opened the window to let fresh air into the room. Of course, one could hardly call the air in this part of Paris fresh; thick with exhaust and the nearby dump’s ‘aromas’, it made one want to wince. However, between these smells, which still had some oxygen in them, and the stale air of a moldy damp room, the girl tended to choose the former.

For the past five years, Marinette’s home was a one-room flat in a house which used to be a workers’ residence. The size was nothing to be proud of; there was only enough space for a small bed and a narrow closet. There was no room even for a table; instead there was a hinged board attached to the windowsill. But, once that improvised table was unfolded, there was no way to approach the closet, and the only way to climb off the bed remained from the back. The bathroom was no better; a toilet bowl, a constantly leaking sink and a shower attached to the wall. No bath, no shower stall, nothing but the constant humidity spreading throughout the flat, which, by the way, didn’t even have a kitchen.

But the girl didn’t complain. At least she was alive.

***

When, seven years ago, Marinette’s natural bad luck brought her to the wrong place at the wrong time, and her inherent clumsiness made her drop in a manner that made her invisible to others, she couldn’t imagine this misfortune will reveal Hawk Moth’s identity to her.

The girl was about to stand up or at least crawl out from under those damned boards (so she got lost while looking for the location of Gabriel Agreste’s show, big deal), but heard someone’s steps. On the one hand, Marinette could call for help, on the other – how to explain she ended up in storage space? That could mean problems for Adrien, who helped Alya get the show tickets.

The decision to pretend she’s another board was instant. No one could see Marinette, so all she had to do was wait until alone again, then transform into Ladybug, kick everything piled upon her everywhere (to teach it not to fall on lost girls), and finally go enjoy the view of the latest fashion collection.

Except the person to enter was Gabriel Agreste, who had decided to go into a quiet, empty distant room, and ask his kwami whether there is a potential akuma target nearby.

***

Her love’s father turned out to be her worst foe. The news had stunned poor Marinette like a club to the head. The desire to both defeat Hawk Moth and protect Adrien from the trauma (who would want to know his father was to blame for all the troubles of Paris?) have fused together, giving birth to a surprise idea; all she needed was to deprive Hawk Moth of his superpowers. Then, there was no need to worry about new attacks of the akumatized, and also absolutely no need to reveal the villain’s identity to the world. Even Chat Noir had no need to know!

Some time before that, Marinette had learned from Alya about the option to send delayed emails. Just in case (should her plan fail), she wrote a letter where she confessed to being the heroine of Paris, along with revealing Hawk Moth’s identity. Should anything happen, in two days the letter will be automatically sent to Alya Césaire’s address. Should she return safe and sound, she’ll delete it at once.

The preparations complete, Ladybug suited up and left her room.

***

When Gabriel Agreste had entered his study, he did not expect to see the heroine of Paris, whose earrings he’s been trying to obtain at all cost. Even less expected were the words ‘Hello, Hawk Moth’. But even more surprising was the fact of Ladybug offering him an ultimatum; his Miraculous Stone in exchange for a quiet life.

The heroine was a coldhearted blackmailer. The words ‘I wonder, how will Adrien react, once he learns what his father’s been doing’ were a knife in Gabriel Agreste’s heart, who, since his wife’s death, had no one left but his son. The designer knew the kindhearted Adrien will be disappointed at his father, even though the motive for Hawk Moth’s actions was to make them both happy. But, damn it, did he spend so much time looking for the Miraculous Stones, only to give up so easily?

“Should anything happen to me, Chat Noir will be the first one to learn where I went and why,” only upon hearing these words did Gabriel pay attention to the heroine having come to him without her partner. “And right after him, the news will spread through the media. How do you think, Monsieur Agreste, what will be quicker; the Cataclysm, or the police?”

Gabriel had no way of knowing how much effort it took for Ladybug to appear so cold and confident before him. Marinette, under the mask, was shaking from fear, worry and anxiety. She used to respect the man; yesterday, his son was her whole world. Now, her main concern was the safety of Paris, yet still she felt guilt over her blackmail, when she took Hawk Moth’s treasure out of his trembling hands.

She promised to keep his identity secret, and, in order to prove how serious she was, and quell the stings of conscience, had made the greatest mistake of her life; Ladybug had taken the mask off in front of her worst enemy.

And a month later, having received seven bullet wounds, Marinette Dupain-Cheng fell off a bridge into the Seine.

***

Marinette never did learn how, after that, she ended up in the 13th arrondissement, which had the biggest Chinatown of Europe.

Madame Zhou, an aged Chinese, had pulled her back from the afterlife and onto her feet.

The rehabilitation took two years, the girl being unconscious during the first one. Did madame Zhou know she had nursed the missing heroine of Paris back to health? That, Marinette couldn’t say; Tikki insisted she’s been hiding from everyone throughout that time. And yet, the aged Chinese never questioned the young girl having seven bullet wounds. ‘To each his own secrets,’ she answered once to Marinette’s unspoken question.

Tikki had suggested more than once for her charge to return home, but she was afraid.

Officially, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was dead, even having her own empty grave at the cemetery. It wasn’t hard to guess Gabriel Agreste took care of her afterlife ticket. Who knew what the man could do should he realize she was alive? Should he send some thugs to attack her parents’ bakery because of her, Marinette will never forgive herself.

And so, she decided that rising from the dead isn’t the best idea.

When she asked for help with a new identity, Madame Zhou’s only reaction was asking ‘who do you want to be?’, and so, in two days, Marinette was Emma Lee. A few more months were spent by her in Chinatown, afraid to show herself on the street and be recognized by an acquaintance. In that time, she gained mastery of Chinese (which she never had the chance to before) sufficient to pass herself off as an actual Chinese (thankfully, she was one on her mother’s side).

Eventually, Marinette started feeling ashamed of depending on Madame Zhou, and so had decided to officially start a new life. With the help of the omnipresent Chinese diaspora web, Mademoiselle Emma Lee found herself a place; a one-room flat in one of the slummiest neighborhoods of Paris, which most certainly won’t be visited by any of Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s former acquaintances. In order to pay the rent (thankfully, the abhorrent condition made it a low one), the girl became a waiter in the local club-restaurant – a seedy place, but good enough for her.

For two more years, the former heroine lived like that…

Until one day, a white butterfly flew into her window. Just like the ones she used to release from her yo-yo after a cleansing.

Dark terror had paralyzed Marinette, all but used to her new life by now. How? She did have the time to pass Hawk Moth’s Miraculous to Master Fu! There were no villain attacks on Paris in four years. Nothing but Chat Noir helping out the police now and then. Where could that moth had come from?

She got her answer the next day, along with a knock on the door from her former classmate, Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

With a painfully familiar brooch on the lapel of his jacket.

***

Nathaniel learned about Marinette being Ladybug from his kwami, Nooroo, who was surprised to see the dark-haired girl’s portrait in his new charge’s room.

At first, Nathaniel was too shocked at being chosen as the new hero of Paris, moreover, as Hawk Moth, who did earn the reputation of a most notorious villain. Which is why it took him time to notice the strange behavior of the kwami, who used to spend hours floating in front of the portrait. Not that he knew what his new friend’s normal behavior was like.

“A beauty, right?” Kurtzberg asked one day. “She used to be my first love.”

“Used to be?” Nooroo asked back.

“Yes. Marinette died four years ago,” the pain was still obvious in the newly-made Hawk Moth’s voice.

“But she’s alive,” the kwami objected. He sensed clearly that the Ladybug Miraculous had never changed its owner, nor did it return to the Guardian. Therefore, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, who definitely was the one wearing the Ladybug’s mask, had to be alive.

Once he learned from Nooroo everything about how the heroine of Paris once came to the old Hawk Moth, blackmailed the Miraculous Stone away from him, and revealed her identity to the foe, it took a long time for Nathaniel to come to his senses; too great was the shock. He was so happy that Marinette had survived; after all, he spent so much time watching and rewatching that video recorded by a chance passerby, the video that became Paris’ main news for months. A video where a black car stops next to the ordinary schoolgirl, Marinette, then a tinted window rolls down, and a few seconds later the girl, staggering from the bullet wounds, makes a step back and, bumping into the bridge railing, drops over it into the Seine. He still had nightmares about these images. And he could easily guess who ordered the hit on poor Marinette – after all, the only enemy of the nice, beautiful, infinitely kind girl was the former Hawk Moth. Alas, the kwami was silent – he had no right to reveal his former master’s identity.

With the Miraculous Stone having been tainted by the former owner’s evil, the powers of the new Hawk Moth were limited. He could not empower people with supernatural abilities, as all former Moths could. But at least Nathaniel could release butterflies capable of finding any person in a city of two million, by homing in on their heart’s call. And so Kurtzberg found Marinette, now calling herself Emma.

The moment he saw Gabriel Agreste’s photo on her door, he figured out both his former Miraculous owner’s identity, and the reason for Marinette not making his identity public. She’s always been way too kind.

Alas, she has always been not only kind, but stubborn as well. Marinette was refusing out flat to return to the world of the living, make Gabriel Agreste face justice for all he did (that would have made all her sacrifices meaningless!), nor make any changes to the current situation. Nathaniel was forced to give up, on the condition that she allowed him to visit from time to time.

And Marinette did allow it. Moreover, she kept working at the club during the evenings, and during the day, she drew clothing sketches which Kurtzberg was passing on to designers, including the reviled Gabriel Agreste – after all, he was paying most handsomely.

And so it went on for three more years.  


***

The girl flinched at a sudden phone call. Only three people could be calling her; Madame Zhou (which was very rare), Monsieur Feng (who was her boss, yet his calls were even rarer than Madame Zhou’s) and Nathaniel Kurtzberg (whose calls were a routine occurrence). As such, even without looking at the incoming number, Marinette accepted the call and asked:

“Nate, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Four in the morning,” a somewhat excited voice came out of the phone. “The time you return from work.”

“And go to sleep,” the girl reminded, covering her mouth at a yawn. “What happened?”

“Gabriel Agreste committed suicide.”

Marinette nearly dropped her phone. Perhaps she misheard?

“Wh-what d-did you s-say?” ironic; for the first time in seven years she was stuttering, and ones again thanks to an Agreste. Albeit a different one.

“Gabriel Agreste committed suicide,” Nathaniel repeated. “I trust you are in no mood for sleep now?”

“What sleep?” Marinette bit her lower lip and glanced at the thoroughly perforated photo of her worst enemy. “But how and why?”

“I don’t know the details,” she heard Nathaniel breathing hard, as if he was running upstairs. “But it should definitely be discussed. You can open the door in a minute.”

The line went silent, and Nathaniel, as promised, crossed the threshold of his former classmate’s flat in exactly a minute.

***

“I’m not returning,” the young woman was adamant.

“But, Marinette…”

“Emma. The name is Emma.”

“Very well, Emma,” how Nathaniel hated that name! It was totally alien; didn’t fit her at all. But unless he wanted to be kicked out, he had to follow her rules. “With him dead, nothing is stopping you from returning. So why?”

“And what will I say?” she crossed her arms. “Mom, Dad, Alya, I was alive all that time?”

“For starters,” Nate nodded.

“It’s too late to return now. They believe me dead anyway.”

“Marinette, but you’re alive,” interrupted Tikki, awake from their bickering. She alone had the right to address her by the old name. “Your parents will be so happy, you’ll see!”

“And then the questioning, the police, the end to my secret identity,” the girl started counting on her fingers, “Madame Zhou will be arrested for helping me with the documents, and I will be jailed for living with a fake ID for six years. No thanks.”

“You had valid reasons for doing that,” Kurtzberg spoke his thoughts. “I’m certain we can convince the police.”

“You do realize then I’ll be forced to reveal that Gabriel Agreste used to be Hawk Moth?”

“But he is dead,” Nooroo noted, sitting down on the bed next to his crimson friend. “I can feel it clearly, with him being my former owner.”

“I don’t care about him either,” the girl barked.

How could her friends fail to understand her? She gave up everything upon deciding to remain dead, so as not to cause any more problems for anyone. Moreover, even earlier, she made a deal with her foe, to protect his own son. And should she return now, tell the whole world that seven years ago she’s been peppered with bullets as a ‘loving gift’ from Gabriel Agreste, what would be the point of all her ordeals? Seven years ago, she was determined not to take Adrien’s father away from him; how could she take him away now that he was dead?! Let him at least have some good memories of his father, even though Marinette remembered Gabriel was hardly a caring parent to his son.

“Is that all because of Adrien?” Nathaniel suggested. “Do you still love him?”

“No,” the girl closed her eyes, considering how to best put words to her feelings. “No to both questions. At least, almost no. He was my first love, but I gave up my feelings the moment I decided to take his father’s Miraculous away. It’s just that… should I come back now, should I reveal the truth about Gabriel’s identity… I feel like these seven years of my life will become meaningless. Because, had I revealed his secret back then, nothing would have happened. Understand, Nate, I cannot return. This is stronger than me.”

Kurtzberg nodded. He was expecting something like this, yet still came with the hope that Marinette will reconsider. He was at her funeral. He saw the tears of her parents, of Alya, of her friends. Even Chloé had been sobbing over her grave! Everyone would have been so happy had Marinette turned out to be alive. Nate himself was so happy at finding her! Yet the stubborn woman refused to make any changes in her life. Perhaps, should she see her family and friends, she will decide to return? Well, was worth a try; after all, Gabriel Agreste was their classmate’s father, which meant Alya and Nino will definitely come to support Adrien.

“Are you coming to the funeral?”

“Why?” Marinette snickered. “To spit upon his grave?”

“At least for that,” Nate smiled. “Don’t you want to personally see your worst foe in a coffin? As far as I know, Mademoiselle Emma Lee does have a mourning attire with a black veil among her clothes.”

Nathaniel was right; a year ago Marinette, or rather Emma, had to accompany Madame Zhou at the funeral of some Chinese diaspora bigwig. The older woman suggested that the girl put on a hat with a veil in order to conceal her face; after all, a lot of the people at the funeral had problems with the law. Marinette made both the hat and the veil herself, and the mourning attire was still in her closet.

“Some of my friends are bound to be there.”

“It’s been seven years,” felt weird, convincing a person of something, when you yourself want the exact opposite to happen, but Nate believed it was worth it. “Besides, the veil is opaque enough. I promise; no one will recognize you. And you don’t actually have to talk to anyone. Just stand on the side; should anyone address you, flip them off in Chinese. And I’ll be by your side as much as possible; if necessary, we’ll say you’re my pen pal, coming from Beijing to visit.”

“And instead of a date, you took me to a funeral?” Mari laughed.

“A funeral of my former classmate’s father,” Kurtzberg corrected her. “I couldn’t very well abandon him in his grief and go on a date! Nor leave a guest alone.”

“Marinette, you should agree,” although Tikki couldn’t read Nathaniel’s thoughts, she could guess about his plan to return the girl home, and so decided to play along. “Nothing bad will happen should you come.”

“I’m coming too,” Nooroo stated. “He was the most terrible owner ever; I want to see his end.”

“Very well, I’m coming,” the former heroine sighed. After all, she still had nightmares of the day she almost died. Maybe, once Marinette sees the corpse of the one to blame for all her troubles with her own eyes, she’ll be able to sleep peacefully once again?

 

 

 

 


	2. The Death of the Fashion King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: The fic was written before Season 2 came out. As such, Nathalie has no idea Gabriel Agreste used to be Hawk Moth.

The policemen, having arrived at the scene of Gabriel Agreste’s death, have made several attempts to ask Adrien, who was the one to find his father’s corpse in the man’s office, whether the deceased had left a suicide note. But the grief-stricken son was unable to answer anything. The young man was sitting on a couch in the living room, staring lifelessly into the void in front of him. There wasn’t the slightest emotion on his face, nor the slightest response to anyone’s voice. Adrien didn’t give a damn about some people walking around him and trying to inquire about something. God damn it, he just learned the most terrible news in his life; what do people want from him?

“There was no note!” the always cold Nathalie Sancoeur (the Iron Secretary, as she was called behind her back) lost her temper, trying to drag Roger Raincomprix away from her late boss’s son. “Can’t you see what state he’s in? Adrien’s father just died, leave him alone!”

“I must still question him,” the officer raised his arms. “After all, it’s not every day famous people shoot themselves in the head, and he,” Roger pointed at the ghost-pale Adrien, “is, for one thing, his only son, and for another, the one to have discovered the body.”

“You can do that once the boy recovers from shock,” Nathalie didn’t relent.

“And when can your ‘boy’,” hardly a fitting word to describe the twenty-five years old grownup Agreste, “help the investigation out?”

“Understand, Monsieur Raincomprix, ten years ago he lost his mother, today – his father. He feels terrible enough already. Had Monsieur Agreste left a note, I would have known. After all, I arrived here almost immediately after him.”

“Do you perhaps know what could have been the motive for suicide?” the officer finally relented. Nathalie was supposed to be questioned in any case.

“Afraid I can’t even imagine,” Sancoeur sighed. Her boss had always seemed an unshakeable, harsh man. Even after his wife died, he didn’t shed a single tear. What could have driven him to this kind of action?

***

It was no secret for Gabriel Agreste that his son was a fan of the heroine of Paris. He also knew that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a close friend of Adrien. Yet neither stopped him from wiring a formidable sum of money in exchange for her assassination. Yes, Hawk Moth did hand Ladybug his Miraculous Stone, but he couldn’t help fearing being blackmailed by Dupain-Cheng. At any moment, the girl could grow greedy, and demand a sum much larger than the one he paid for her head. Besides, so long as she lived, there was the threat that the identity of the one who terrorized the city under Hawk Moth’s mask will become public. That would have meant the end of not just his company, but the family as well; Adrien would have inevitably been disappointed at his father. Their relationship was rather cold as it is.

Which is why, the moment Gabriel saw on the news how the bullet-riddled Marinette Dupain-Cheng drops into the Seine, he felt triumphant. She took away his chance to regain Emilie. He took away her life. Made them even.

Except that, half a year after Marinette’s death, Adrien started growing more distant from his father.

No, that wasn’t accurate; Adrien _started_ growing distant. Before, Agreste Jr. was doing his best to please his father, attract his attention, be the perfect son. He obeyed all of Gabriel’s whims unquestioningly, only growing a spine on rare occasions (like that time he managed to get into the collège). Yet now Adrien started missing photoshoots and even slept outside his house a few times.

It was as if his son was replaced by a stranger. A once kind and obedient boy became aggressive and irritable. He constantly went missing during the nights, only catching three-four hours of sleep a day. Because of the dark circles around his eyes, Adrien was forced to quit modeling for a while, because the makeup did no good anymore. Gabriel had even suspected a drug addiction, but a medical examination failed to confirm any such thing.

The answer was found on the anniversary of Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s death.

When Gabriel first saw his son drunk, and holding his former classmate’s photo at that, he realized the reason for the changes in Adrien, but was naïve enough to hope it was but a teenage crush, destined to pass eventually.

But, alas, the father’s hopes turned out to be futile.

One more year later, Adrien gathered his things and left home. Gabriel tried hiring people to search for his son, but no one could tell where his heir has gone. Even though Adrien didn’t leave the city; he was seen in Paris all the time, he kept communicating with some friends, and yet, was gradually growing distant even from them.

Eventually, Adrien Jr. had learned to hide his distress under a mask of indifference. An exact copy of the one worn by his father. He got rid of the circles around his eyes, and even returned to his modeling career. Yet the spark which his eyes had while Marinette Dupain-Cheng was alive, never returned.

Adrien did appear at home from time to time. Usually, it had to do with some date; his mother’s birthday, Christmas, Marinette’s death anniversary, the day Adrien first crossed the doors of Collège Françoise Dupont… Yet even when home, he didn’t tend to leave his room.

When, on the seventh anniversary of Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s death, Gabriel decided to talk to Adrien (he had no intention to confess in his sins, merely to make contact), he learned his son’s greatest secret.

A man who used to plague Paris with villains could not have failed to recognize the flying black kitten as a kwami. Gabriel realized at once that his son was Chat Noir all this time. Along with the fact that his son will never forget his first love, partner and classmate.

Whom his father, with his own hands, which had wired that damned money onto some cutthroats’ account, took away from his only child.

“Why can’t I find anything?” Adrien barked at his kwami. “If only I could find the one who did this to her, I won’t skimp on my Cataclysms.”

“A hero must never use his power for revenge,” it seemed the black kitten was only speaking these words ‘for the record’, while actually fully agreeing with his owner.

“To hell with it,” the guy snapped. “So long as it’s for my Lady’s sake.”  
  
Gabriel didn’t listen any further. He walked away quietly, as if he never was next to his son’s room in the first place.

Could it be his penance for his sins? For those years of terrorizing the citizens out of the selfish desire to bring his wife back from the dead? Gabriel would have never wanted such a thing for his son, yet, by bitter irony, took away his son’s chance to be with his beloved.

Too late did Agreste Sr. realize what he did. Not wanting to lose his son, he had personally doomed him to a lifeless existence, just like the one he himself suffered ever since losing his wife. Except that Adrien, unlike his father, had no son with his lost love’s eyes.

Adrien had nothing, except for the desire to kill the person who took Marinette Dupain-Cheng away from him.

Gabriel could not allow his son to become a patricide. Nor could he pretend everything was okay.

It took him a month to tidy things up with the company, ensure his will was in order, and write the suicide note. To relieve his conscience, Gabriel poured all his fears and experiences onto the sheet of paper, along with the sins he spawned. He confessed to being Hawk Moth. He described Ladybug taking away his Miraculous stone. He confessed that he was the one to send the assassins after Marinette Dupain-Cheng, because he knew she was the heroine of Paris. And he begged his son, the wearer of Chat Noir’s mask, for the forgiveness which he didn’t deserve.

Before shooting the bullet in his mouth, Gabriel Agreste sent Adrien an SMS saying ‘Come see me today’.

The father saw no point in waiting for a reply.

***

Once the policemen, at long last, have left the mansion, Nathalie headed for Adrien’s room. A couple of hours ago she’d managed to lead Agreste Jr. there, away from what was happening, and Sancoeur was hoping he would have managed to recover at least a bit by now. It would have been nice had he managed to fall asleep as well.

Alas, the young man was sitting on his bed, same pose as she left him; hands clasped on his knees, head down, unseeing stare directed at the void.

“Are you going to tell me what the note said?” Nathalie asked, sitting next to him. She knew about her former boss’s final message, having walked in on Adrien, a list filled with tiny writing in his hands, a stare full of loathing directed at his father’s corpse.

“You can read for yourself,” Adrien replied in a hoarse, alien voice, pulling the sloppily folded page out of an inside pocket. “But it might shock you a lot.”

“I’m afraid that’ll make it hard to keep lying to the police,” Sancoeur sighed, an arm around his shoulders. “My condolences,” she whispered.

“No need,” Adriel shook his head sluggishly. “The only thing I’m sorry about, is him dying before I could kill him.”

“That serious?” even though Adrien had changed over the past few years, Nathalie remembered well how he, as a child, did everything to be recognized by his father. And now, the one who was dreaming about his father caring for him, was sorry about not being a patricide?

“What happened to Marinette…” the young man stumbled. Even after all these years, it wasn’t easy to say her name. “It was him.”

“You can’t be saying that your father…” Nathalie couldn’t believe her own ears. Could Gabriel Agreste be connected to the death of his son’s former classmate? But how? No way he could have sent assassins after her!

“That’s precisely what I’m saying,” Adrien grumbled, rising from the bed. “I believe you deserve to know,” he held out the letter to Sancoeur again. “Because there are things I need to ask of you.”

Nathalie nodded, and, carefully unfolding her boss’s last message, began to read.

***

The woman wasn’t sure which part of what she read had surprised her the most. She felt her whole world was turned upside down. The now late boss was a former villain, his once thoroughly tame son – a hero of Paris, and the nice girl whom Nathalie remembered from her victory in the hat competition, and who was brutally murdered right in the center of the capital, used to be Ladybug herself. Oh, and yes, the very same late boss was the one who handed the red-suited heroine the ultimate one-way ticket. Anything she forgot?

Sancoeur read the suicide note again. This has to be some kind of joke. A prank. Any moment, people with cameras will appear, to tell her that Nathalie was a participant in one of the numerous French TV shows, that no Gabriel Agreste ever died, and that the letter didn’t contain a single line of truth.

Except there was no sign of a single TV worker; Nathalie had personally checked the boss was absolutely definitely dead before calling the police, and Adrien’s face made it quite obvious that everything was real.

A-re you rea -really Chat Noir?” God, the last time Sancoeur stuttered was when she was twelve, trying to ask some boy out. Now, she didn’t even remember his name, but somehow, the situation came to mind. Must be nerves.

“I can transform,” during the time Sancoeur was reading the letter, Adrien stood at the window, his forehead pressed against the cold glass. The steady beat of the rain matched his lousy mood perfectly. He, himself, had long since shed all the tears he had (as soon as he learned Marinette was the one behind Ladybug’s mask), so let at least the heavy clouds mourn his pitiful fate; being the son of the man who took his Lady away.

Agreste Jr. closed his eyes. Once again, in front of him appeared that terrible video of the seven bullets piercing his love’s frail body. So many times, he, like a complete masochist, had rewatched it, including in slow motion. Enough that he saw it again whenever he was in the dark or closed his eyes. The right shoulder, the left leg, two in the belly, the left forearm, and the last one – the belly again. And all that – a “present” from his father.

No. It’s his fault.

At Marinette’s funeral (as much as one can call burying an empty coffin ‘funeral’), Adrien had learned from Alya that the Princess was in love with him. It wasn’t hard to guess that her feelings for the enemy’s son were the reason his Lady didn’t turn Hawk Moth in. And why, damn it, was that son Adrien Agreste and not someone else?

No, seems like there were still some tears left.

He slowly slid down the glass and onto the floor. How he wanted to follow father’s example and blow his own brains out!

“Adrien?” Nathalie, concerned, was shaking his shoulders. When did she come so close? He must have missed it, drowning in his heavy thoughts. “Adrien, what’s wrong with you?”

“The sedatives are in his left pocket,” an unfamiliar voice spoke behind Sancoeur’s back. The woman turned and yelped, seeing a strange flying creature resembling a kitten. Seems like today was her lifetime record in experienced emotions.

Being an intelligent woman, Nathalie was quick to put the facts together and connect the presence of the catlike flyer to Adrien being Chat Noir. The details of the connection didn’t concern her at the moment, so, nodding to the kitten, Sancoeur found the medicine and handed a pill to Adrien. Then the woman took her handbag, where she always had a water bottle, from the couch, and forced Adrien, who was holding the pill lifelessly in his hand, to take it.

***

Understanding perfectly that Gabriel Agreste’s heir was in no condition to arrange his father’s funeral himself, Nathalie took matters into her own hands. Even though the unbounded respect she used to feel for her boss had been replaced by deep loathing as soon as she learned about his deeds, Sancoeur was handling the matter with her full professionalism. After all, Adrien’s reputation depended on how the funeral will go, and matters were hard enough for him already.

“Thank you. For everything,” Adrien, having walked into her office, said once she put her phone down after another call. “Plagg told me that yesterday I was, once again… well, really out of it.”

“Is Plagg that creature?” Nathalie nodded, accepting his thanks, even though she herself took her actions for granted, considering the situation. But now wasn’t the time for debates about politeness.

“Not a creature; a kwami, dear,” Plagg grumbled, flying from behind his owner’s back. “And yes, that’s me.”

“Nathalie Sancoeur, pleased to meet you,” the woman introduced herself, as if it wasn’t a flying cat unknown to mankind in front of her, but a regular business partner.

“I know,” the kwami shot back and squeezed himself into Agreste’s shirt pocket.

“Excuse him, he’s always like that,” Adrien sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Nathalie,” he said after a tiny pause, “yesterday, I wanted to ask something of you.”

“Yes, of course. Anything.”

“My first request, you’ve started carrying out before I could ask,” he pointed at the papers and the phone. “Thanks for organizing the funeral. I am too angry at him to be a dutiful son.”

“I understand,” Nathalie nodded.

“And thanks for the newspapers not shouting ‘Chat Noir is Hawk Moth’s son’ in every headline.”

“I know how to keep my mouth shut, Monsieur Noir,” Sancoeur tried smiling, but with yesterday’s stresses, the attempt failed, except for a slight twitch of the corners of her lips.

“And now, for the most important,” Adrien took a deep breath before continuing. He was determined in his decision but was afraid Nathalie will consider it just a spur-of-the-moment whim. “I want to divide my father’s inheritance into three equal parts.”

Nathalie, preparing to write down ‘the most important’ out of habit, dropped her pen. That was an enormous fortune! Adrien was the sole heir of his father’s entire fashion empire and was becoming one of the wealthiest bachelors of all France, maybe even Europe. And he intended to divide the inheritance up?

“One share, I am leaving for myself,” he answered the secretary’s unspoken question. “The second, I would like to give to Monsieur Dupain and Madame Cheng… Marinette’s parents. And the third should go to the person who has invested at least as much effort in my father’s business as he did. I’m talking about you, Nathalie. And this is not up for discussion.”


	3. Who would mourn?

Despite the French custom, Gabriel Agreste’s funeral had no last rites in a Catholic church. Instead, there was a farewell ceremony in the enormous hall of the luxurious Fashion Palace the late designer had built.

“Looks more like a high-class ball than a funeral,” Marinette noted as she entered the building alongside Nathaniel.

Anyone could enter if they wanted, but the guards at the entrance still gave a thorough look at every arrival. Mademoiselle Emma Lee fixed the thick mourning veil, attached to her hair with a black clip so that no one could recognize her as Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl tensed, sensing that someone was watching her, but, recognizing that person as the renowned fashion critic Madame Bernard, relaxed; they have never met before, so the woman must have been intrigued by the little black dress, made in full accordance with Coco Chanel’s best traditions and part of Emma Lee’s mourning clothes.

“Relax, no one has cracked you,” Nathaniel whispered into his companion’s ear.

Marinette nodded nervously and hesitantly looked around. People in mourning clothes – that is, designer mourning clothes, largely made according to late Gabriel’s own sketches – were talking among themselves, having broken up into small groups of like-minded. Some were actually smiling as they discussed something, confirming the young woman’s first impression to her.

Marinette’s gaze was constantly meeting famous people, ones who were a common sight on both newspaper and magazine pages, and TV screens. Next to one of the columns, surrounded by several people, stood one of Agreste Sr.’s competitors, whose name Marinette never bothered to learn due to the mediocrity of his works. A short distance away, a bunch of female models were chattering, none of them so much as attempting to hold in the laughter which came from the bunch every two minutes, steady as a clock. She looked a bit to the left, and saw an older lady, waving a folded fan in rhythm with a story told. Judging from the reaction of the listeners, the story wasn’t too sad either.

And none of these people were the slightest bit ashamed that the coffin, holding the body of the man they came to say their final farewells to, was standing raised at the hall’s north wall! Did anyone here mourn him at all? The former heroine needed significant mental effort in order to chase away the pity at her enemy.

Suddenly, Marinette stopped. Her gaze fell on _him_.

Adrien Agreste was sitting on the floor (why, damn it, did this place have no chairs?), his back leaning on one of the columns, a lifeless stare directed at his late father’s coffin. God, even now, he was so beautiful. As soon as Emma Lee saw him, she felt the traitorous beat of Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s heart in her chest. He grew out his hair, now held together with a thin black band. His matured face could still be considered perfection. And the way that black three-piece suit looked on him!

Except the once beautiful emerald eyes, which used to drive the heroine of Paris herself mad, were now dim and hollow.

“And you said the feelings are in the past,” Kurtzberg sighed, noticing at whom his companion was looking so closely. On the one hand, Nathaniel was mad at Marinette still failing to let Adrien go out of her heart, with him being the son of the man who made her suffer so much. But, on the other hand, Nate realized that Agreste Jr. wasn't to blame. You don't get to choose your parents.

“They _are_ ,” the girl answered. “This, just so you know, is an echo. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to control my emotions.”

“Admit it, you still love him,” Nathaniel wanted so much for Marinette to return home. Even if she did it for Adrien’s sake once again. Emma Lee’s life wasn’t her thing at all.

“I’m just sorry for him,” Marinette walked to a free spot near the wall, which allowed her to watch the event while attracting as little attention as possible. “His father is dead, and all these people,” she waved her arm half-heartedly, “have only come here to socialize, share some gossip, make two or three contracts… they’ll approach him, express some false condolences, and, once again, disperse to join their ‘clubs of the like-minded’.”

“My, Ladybug is upset at no one mourning Hawk Moth?” the new wielder of Hawk Moth’s brooch spoke in a barely audible voice. “Is that your respect for a former foe speaking, or still the same infinite kindness? You should start getting rid of both. He certainly doesn’t deserve _your_ pity.”

“Don’t be so mad, Nate,” Marinette patted him on the shoulder. “For me, compassion from Ladybug would have been demeaning to him. So, I, you could say, are having my revenge.”

“Through compassion?”

“However I can.”

Out of the people Marinette knew personally (aside from Nathaniel and Adrien), the only ones currently at the funeral were Chloé, and her constant companion, Sabrina. And while Sabrina kept running all over the building on some minor tasks, Bourgeois was always at Adrien’s side, sometimes taking time off for a phone call, but once done, always trying to support Agreste Jr. with some talk. Nate had told her that Chloé was most genuinely upset during Marinette’s funeral, and once the murder case was suspended due to lack of leads, Bourgeois even got into a fight with her father, trying to make the mayor of Paris put pressure on the investigators and find her classmate’s murderers. Dupain-Cheng was very much surprised at her constant rival having such a side. Somehow, she thought Chloé will be delighted at the ‘commoner girl’ no longer being an eyesore.

Marinette was grateful to Bourgeois for not abandoning Agreste to his grief. Of course, Chloé and Adrien were childhood friends (and Marinette knew for certain that she used to love him), but plenty of people calling themselves ‘friends’ or ‘in love with Adrien’ were now gossiping all over the corners of the mourning hall.

Speaking of friends, Marinette was genuinely surprised at not seeing alongside Agreste the two people who certainly wouldn’t have abandoned him on such a day.

“Nate, do you know why Nino and Alya haven’t come?” she asked.

“As far as I know, they stopped communicating a couple of years ago,” the young man wondered himself. He was hoping for them to be here, believing that upon seeing Alya, Marinette would consider returning home. “But it’s still weird. I can ask Chloé; she was the one who told me where the funereal is going to be. I still have to express my condolences anyway.”

Marinette nodded approvingly, but shook her head when Nate gestured to suggest she follows him. Kurtzberg, expecting such an answer, promised to return with all haste, and strode confidently toward the former classmates,

Now alone, the girl felt worry rise up in her again. What if someone approached her and asked what she was doing here? Nate, of course, did suggest she answer in Chinese, but that could raise even more questions! Marinette definitely didn’t want to ‘rise from the dead’, and certainly not at someone else’s funeral. Which is why, grabbing the strap of her small handbag, she bit her lip, and started drilling the back of the temporarily away redheaded companion with her gaze, hoping he’ll be back soon.

***

Acquaintances, barely acquaintances, completely unfamiliar people, one by one, were coming, first, to Gabriel Agreste’s coffin, and then his son, or, vice versa, first the son then the coffin, but that didn’t change the fact _she_ was not among them. Adrien kept his eyes on father’s casket, hoping to see a girl with two pigtails (or another haircut; she had enough time to change it after all), coming to express her contempt for her vilest foe, whom she managed to outlive despite all his efforts.

“Adrien, do you really believe Dupain-Cheng will come?” Chloé asked after handling another call. When, five years ago, the drunk hero of Paris, Chat Noir, came over, she was surprised. When his transformation slipped away, revealing Adrien Agreste to her eyes, she was shocked. And when he had revealed to her, that the late Marinette used to be Ladybug and was most likely alive, Mademoiselle Bourgeois thought that she went mad. But the truth revealed yesterday, that the hit on her former classmate was arranged by Gabriel Agreste, who used to be Hawk Moth… well, that broke all records of inconceivability.

“I would have,” Adrien sighed. “To make sure the bastard _is_ dead. After all, nothing is keeping her from returning anymore.”

“She could be living in another country by now,” Bourgeois parried. She, too, wanted Marinette back, but at the same time, she was afraid Agreste would live with false hopes. “And doesn’t even know what happened. After all, were she in Paris, we would have found her a long time ago. Besides, she could have lost her memory.”

“Cut down on the sitcoms, Chlo. My Lady could not have forgotten me; I can feel it.”

Bourgeois wanted to answer, but, seeing the redhead approaching them, changed her mind. Now was not the time to discuss Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“My condolences,” Nate said, having approached Adrien.

Agreste nodded. He was in no mood to speak to anyone except Chloé (and Marinette, naturally). Besides, Nate was standing in a manner that obscured father’s coffin, making it harder to watch the ones saying farewell to his father.

Of course, there was no way for Kurtzberg to know Adrien was currently only thinking of Ladybug, instead of the late Gabriel, otherwise he might have dared to hint about his companion’s identity.

“If you need any support or help, you can always come to me,” Nathaniel said the words largely out of politeness, but also a dose of sincerity, since despite Adrien being Hawk Moth’s son, as well as the one who stole Marinette’s heart, he did nothing bad to Nate himself. Kurtzberg wanted to hate Agreste, but couldn’t. And not only because Marinette would not have forgiven that.

Adrien nodded again, praying in his thoughts that the former classmate moves just a bit, so as not to obscure the view. Wasn’t the fact of his father dying reason enough to leave him alone? But no, everyone considered it his duty to come over and say, ‘My condolences, you can come to me if you need help’.

Agreste was convincing himself that Marinette has to return after Hawk Moth’s death, because thinking she didn’t return out of fear for another retribution wasn’t nearly as horrible as imagining his Lady bedridden in a hospital, an air tube in her mouth due to her being unable to so much as breath on her own! Her appearing here and now would have been enough to destroy all his fears. For seven damned years Adrien had always carried sedative pills with him, having neither the desire nor the strength to swallow them. Marinette’s return would have been the best medicine for the mental state of the hero of Paris. Damn all these people coming to him one by one, who might make him miss the one person meeting whom was the meaning of his life!

Chloé, noticing Adrien starting to get angry, understood the reason at once and, taking Nathaniel by the elbow, pulled him a bit to the side under the pretense of wanting to discuss something. Except Bourgeois didn’t have the slightest idea about what she could possibly need from a person whose life she’d been poisoning during their school years.

“Did you stand by the coffin already?” the words were found on their own as soon as she remembered where they were.

“I came to support Adrien,” Kurtzberg shook his head. “No matter how much of a scum his father was, I can imagine what he feels now.”

“Scum?” Chloé asked back. Of course, considering the information about Gabriel she learned yesterday, Bourgeois more than agreed with the epithet, but why would Nathaniel call him that? For one thing, they didn’t appear to have interacted in the past, and for another, this mild-mannered guy wasn’t the type to just go around accusing people, considering the abuse he suffered in the past from Chloé herself. Just consider that time he was akumatized! But as far as Bourgeois knew, Nate never spoke ill of her behind her back.

“Don’t take it to heart,” the redhead waved it off. “Just some common acquaintances who got their lives messed up by him.”

“By the way,” the mayor’s daughter suddenly remembered seeing that Kurtzberg didn’t come alone, “weren’t you with a girl?” not that she cared too much, but she was curious. Nate used to be in love with Marinette himself. It seemed that, unlike Adrien, Nathaniel had managed to switch to a new love.

He was about to speak the story about the pen pal he was forced to take along, but Chloé was distracted by Sabrina, who came to her with a report about nearly all of Gabriel Agreste’s former colleagues having assembled, meaning it was time to go to the cemetery.  Had Nate not promised Marinette to inquire about Alya and Nino’s absence, he would have long since returned to his friend, but, alas, he was forced to wait until Bourgeois gives new instructions to her ‘lapdog’. It appeared that in all the years he knew them, the relationship between the two didn’t change one bit.

Except Nathaniel never asked his question. A sudden sense of unease forced him to turn around and check Marinette was okay. Except he didn’t see the young woman.

***

Marinette kept staring at Nate’s back, as if it could speed up his return. Which is why she didn’t notice the approach of a short balding guy until he addressed her, making her flinch.

“Mdmsele,” the red nose, slurred speech and the sickening smell of alcohol were plainly demonstrating the utter nonexistence of the man’s sobriety. “Alau me t’intrduce m’self, Antoine Pierott, the owner af th’most fam’s txtile factry of Eurpe. Altho you probbly kno me.”

‘Excuse me, I don’t speak French,’ good thing Marinette had learned Chinese.

Or bad.

“Asien, thn,” the textile magnate snickered. “Love th’type.”

Seeing that the language barrier failed to stop him, Marinette desided to speak her birth language after all, doing her best to fake a proper accent.

“Don’t forget where you are,” she said coldly.

“Oh, that’s ‘nother mattr,” Monsieur Pierrot grinned brazenly, reaching out for her veil. “Let m’have a look at’yo…”

Marinette almost took a swing to slap the insolent brat, but stopped herself in time, afraid to draw undue attention. This man disgusted her terribly, like all drunkards did, but her work taught her to hold in her revulsion toward such people and even control them somewhat. Well, time to pull out Emma Lee’s skills.

“Monsieur, there are too many people here,” she whispered, feigning embarrassment. “How about we go somewhere quiet?”

Looking at how the man beamed from her offer, Marinette made a face; thankfully invisible under the veil. Not allowing him to touch her, she quickly went for one of the corridors, fully aware that the obnoxious person follows her. She already had a plan of getting rid of him, but it was still terribly unpleasant, feeling the lusty gaze of the disgusting rich bastard fixed on her back. Having followed the long corridor to the male restroom entrance, Marinette spun around and grabbed the fellow’s tie. The girl (having hardly grown any taller since school) was towering half a head above Antoine Pierrot, making him stand on tiptoe.

“Go wash yourself,” she nodded at the toilet door. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Marinette released the necktie, and the man, not wasting a second, disappeared behind the door. She herself, once again making a face of utter disgust, hurried for the spare exit at the end of the corridor. Why the hell did she allow herself to be convinced into going to this funeral?

“Pardon,” Dupain-Cheng whispered, stumbling into some girl at the door.

Fixing the veil which had slipped from the collision, Marinette exited the building without a glance back, and went for the subway station.

Leaving Sabrina Raincomprix looking after her for a while, deep in thought.

 

 


	4. The night visit

Emma Lee was always leaving work later than the other waitresses. Her colleagues were convinced it was because of her habit of reading the news strip or rewatching a new Chatblog video on her phone, but that wasn’t the case at all. Yes, she did, of course, often watch the videos of her partner stopping another criminal or otherwise helping the police and other emergency services. But she did it out of not the overwhelming nostalgia, but the desire to change her clothes while alone, once everyone else leaves. After all, Marinette had no particular desire to explain the seven scars all over her body.

And that’s why now she was watching Chat Noir rescuing hostages in a bank. Never mind that it’s the fifth time and that all the workers of ‘Plum Branch’ went home a long time ago! The girl was simply biding her time in case someone forgot something and came back, catching her without a shirt.

But, damn it, how she missed that whacko, brazen, impudent partner of hers with his horribly ridiculous jokes! She could guess how her disappearance… that is, _death_ … hit her parents and Alya, but it was Noir who made her feel deeply ashamed. Possibly because Marinette Dupain-Cheng disappeared against her will (after all, seven bullets had erased almost two years of her life), while Noir was abandoned by Ladybug willingly. She never once met him in the month between taking Hawk Moth’s brooch and falling off the bridge.

And Marinette did know Chat loved his lady. He must have felt lost and abandoned, been looking for her all over the city, worrying. She did consider more than once what would Noir have said, had he known how his partner spent all these years. He would have been genuinely upset, accusing himself of failing to help, and would have certainly chastised her for arrogance and thoughtlessness. And then would have smiled that _murr_ velous smile, made an impossibly insane pun, making Marinette roll her eyes, and said ‘My Lady’ in such a tone as if those seven years never existed.

Wiping away the tears welling in her eyes, she turned off the phone’s screen and placed it on the bench. It was time to get dressed.

***

Typing the code that turned on the alarm, and locking the service exit, Marinette headed unhurriedly toward her home. Working at night had its charms. For example, while returning home in the hours before dawn, she could afford a leisurely walk without the risk of running into anyone she knew, with the streets of Paris being empty. The owls were already asleep, the larks were yet to wake up, and only the normally diurnal ladybug was enjoying the silence of the night.

Gabriel Agreste had been buried two weeks ago but, strangely enough – after all, her worst foe did die – nothing changed in the girl’s life. The photo was still being used as a dartboard, and Marinette was still refusing to return to her family. Tikki, Nathaniel and even Nooroo have been trying to convince her nothing bad will happen, but she feared to make changes in the already established routine of her life. Even if she understood that was no life.

But what could Marinette consider her life? The Adrien obsession of her school years? She gave that love up even before her name, the day she came after Agreste Sr.’s Miraculous Stone. Maybe her love of fashion and her dreams of being a designer? Except that, thanks to Nathaniel, Emma Lee was selling clothing designs. What, then?

The girl took a deep breath and raised her head, gazing into the black starless sky. Sometimes, she had a strong urge to transform into Ladybug again and feel the freedom of darting across the tall buildings. Except she tended to leave Tikki at home, and feared returning to her Ladybug identity even more than Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life. No, not quite. Lately, it somehow seemed to her that Ladybug could not exist without Marinette, and vice versa. Meaning that taking back one of her former names, the young woman would have automatically taken back the other one as well.

Once, Marinette used to contrast the maskless herself and the heroine of Paris. What irony; in order to realize how stupid it was, she had to give up both her identities.

The girl entered the apartment building, and, throwing a melancholic look at the never working elevator, started walking up the stairs to the fifth floor. Since no flat on her floor had a kitchen (although the lower floors did seem to have them), and the rooms themselves were tiny, the roomy corridor held a large fridge for the residents to hold the food, and a microwave to heat it. The fridge was very old, the yellowed plastic ‘decorated’ with obscene stickers; a fact which surprised Marinette at first, with women being the only tenants. Now, after all these years, Emma opened the aging door, only to find someone had eaten her dinner again. Damn it, soon she’ll start hating that little thief more than Gabriel Agreste!

Resigned to the thought of having to survive on Tikki’s cookies again, the woman pulled out the apartment key. But, the moment she raised it to the keyhole, Marinette realized the door was unlocked already.

Considering that, when leaving for work, she was leaving her kwami at home, and the door had a treacherously perforated photo of Gabriel Agreste, Marinette was always locking that door. There was but a single key, not even Nate allowed to make a copy (even though Nooroo would have no trouble opening any lock), but Nathaniel would have never come without a call, especially at this hour. A thief? Stolen dinner wasn’t enough, now someone broke into her home as well? Except any burglar will have to be out of their mind to steal from a flat in this part of the town; the people are too poor. Certainly there was nothing to steal from Emma Lee (because the most valuable – the Miraculous earrings – were never taken off).

What if someone recognized her at the funeral, and was now here to take her home? But why at this hour? And, again, how did that someone open the lock? No, there must be another reason, one Marinette will never learn unless she comes in.

Licking her dry lips, the girl reached for the door handle with a trembling hand.

***

An overbearing Chinese woman in a black qipao with a red dragon stood with her back toward the window. Her graying black hair was assembled into an intricate hairdo of intertwining strands, and the face was frozen into its customary haughty expression.

“Madame Yu?” Marinette certainly did not expect to see her savior’s assistant.

“Time to repay your debts,” the woman spoke coldly. “Madame Zhou hopes you won’t refuse to help her out.”

“Of course I won’t,” the former heroine tried to add confidence to her voice, but it was problematic, given the suddenness of the night visit. Would it have been so hard to call? Why did Madame Yu come to her in the middle of the night? And how, akuma damn her, did the woman get past a locked door? The girl had a lot of questions, but only asked one:

“How can I help?”

“Straight to business,” the guest hid her grin behind a fan. “Admirable. Then I won’t stall either. Ask for a break at work; about a week long, the details will be given to you by Madame Zhou herself. I believe fifteen hours will be enough for you to get enough sleep and handle the matters with your boss. At seven P.M., please be at Madame’s place.”

Yu said no more. Folding her fan, she was next to Marinette in two steps, and, lightly shouldering her out of the way, disappeared behind the door. Waiting until the steps outside fall silent, the former heroine locked the door and called for her kwami.

“What happened here?” she asked as soon as Tikki flew out of her hideout

“An hour before you returned,” the flustered kwami was making circled above her owner’s head, “I heard some strange noise in the lock, and then Madame Yu entered. I hid in time, so she didn’t see me. Can you imagine, she just stood near the window like that for the whole hour until you came. Marinette, I really don’t like this woman!”

“I know, Tikki, me too,” Dupain-Cheng sighed, sitting down on the bed. “But what can I do? She’s Madame Zhou’s right hand; I owe her a lot for saving me and helping me out afterwards. If only I knew what she could need of me?”

The ‘money’ option was discarded right away; her pay in the ‘Plum Branch’ was only enough for the rent and food, and whatever she earned from her designs was spent on charity. Having abandoned the post of the heroine of Paris, Ladybug was feeling guilty before the citizens. It was true that Hawk Moth no longer threatened the city, but the regular crime didn’t go anywhere. Char Noir was still saving people all the time. Which was why Marinette decided to at least make up for her vanishing by a weekly transfer of all the earnings from her hobby into all kinds of charitable foundations, mainly medical ones.

Connections? That option was even more preposterous. Madame Zhou was hardly an insignificant person in the Chinese diaspora. She probably had more opportunity in that regard than the mayor of Paris himself! Neither Emma Lee nor Marinette Dupain-Cheng (assuming Madame Zhou knew her true identity) could boast anything similar.

What, then? Neither Tikki nor Marinette have managed to come up with anything resembling a credible idea, so, deciding not to muddle up her head in advance, the girl took a shower and went to sleep. She’ll be told everything in the evening anyway.

***

Waking up after noon, Marinette called Monsieur Feng and, with the excuse of illness, squeezed a week of rest out of him. The grumbling Chinese had reluctantly released his employee, but stated he’s not going to pay out a sick leave, and these days are actually going to be taken out of her future leave. Which is why, as soon as the girl hung up, a dart was embedded between the late Hawk Moth’s eyes. It seemed that his photo would be serving as a stress reliever for a long time yet.

Marinette had no intention to tell Nathaniel about being summoned by Madame Zhou. A night visit and an almost order to take a week of leave from work seemed very strange, and she didn’t want to worry her friend. First, she needed to learn what was required of her. If things went bad, she would have time to call or even send Tikki to him.

There was still plenty of time until seven P.M., so, putting on a hoodie (with the hood up – Marinette never went out without a hood during daytime), the former heroine went to have a breakfast at the nearest joint. This time she took Tikki along. Except it seemed that the girl will have to forego her breakfast in addition to yesterday’s dinner; a police cordon was surrounding the building.

Curiosity won over, and Marinette was about to ask one of the gawkers crowding nearby, to learn what happened. But before she could, she saw the doors of the joint swing open, and a pleased Chat Noir come out.

Gulping nervously, Marinette fixed her hood. The last thing she needed was for the hero of Paris to recognize her as a girl who died seven years ago. After all, he did know Marinette, having worked with her against Evillustrator. Also, him and Ladybug had discussed once how the whole of Chloé Bourgeois’ class had been attacked by akumas, except for Marinette and Adrien.

“You _mew_ take them in,” Noir saluted to a police officer.

Some things never change: the latest cat pun was proof. But the hero’s appearance did undergo some changes. There was no way Ladybug could have called Noir a Kitten now. This was a mature adult Cat. He grew, his shoulders broadened, his stride was more confident. And Marinette did get the impression that Kitty was keeping track of fashion; at least, he grew out his hair just like Adrien Agreste did.

Saying something to the policemen, the hero extended his staff, and, a moment later, was already on the roof of a nearby building. Marinette heard the gawkers constantly exclaiming how cool and courageous Chat Noir is. ‘He laughs in the face of danger!’ someone said.

Except Ladybug knew Noir like no one else did. On every single Chatblog video she saw over the past few years, the hero was acting as before; punning, mocking his foes, showing off the ease and playfulness of his actions. But today, having seen her partner in the flesh for the first time in seven years, the girl was horrified. The videos didn’t show how his gaze, once perky and full of life, was as different as possible now; alien and lifeless. Damn it, when did his regular circus get replaced by the pretense of one?

Marinette was really hoping it wasn’t her leaving which made Chat like this. Yet even to her, the hope sounded hollow.


	5. When the Police are Powerless

Having handled the racketeers wrecking the joint, Noir jumped onto a roof and ran for the City Hall. That’s where he was actually headed before hearing that the police needs help, and having to make a small (merely half of Paris) detour.

Yesterday evening, Chloé had called Adrien and said her father had some serious problems. To be precise, it wasn’t André Bourgeois himself who had the problems, but the chief of police, who was a good friend of the mayor. Monsieur Bourgeois didn’t know how his daughter had managed to make contact with the hero of Paris, but was most glad when Chat Noir offered his help. Still, Chat wasn’t told over the phone what was required of him. The meeting was scheduled for noon, and Noir was _chat_ astrophically two hours late. But he could be excused, right?

Being the only hero left in Paris, Chat could not abandon its people in trouble. But it wasn’t just for the peaceful citizens’ sake that Noir remained on duty; he could not fail his Lady. He really wanted to believe that Marinette, wherever she might be, is watching his heroic activity. He tried to show, with all his strength, that the city is in good hands, hands which could protect her as well… and most definitely will, should she only return.

Also, he didn’t want to worry her. His Lady always tended to take on too much. Chat could not show weakness; Marinette must never learn how hard it was for him, to be without her, didn’t want her to blame herself for his condition. Which is why, whenever he put on the mask of the hero of Paris, he also wore his regular goofy image. Besides, it calmed down the citizens; no need for them to know of all the pain their protector was hiding behind the wide grin.

Leaping into the mayor’s office through the open window, Chat Noir was about to apologize for being late in his regular joking manner, but was stopped by the chief of the city police, Monsieur Dupree, who was waiting for his arrival alongside mayor Bourgeois.

“We know perfectly well what delayed you, Monsieur Noir,” Alain Dupree said, shaking the hero’s ‘paw’. “Thanks for assisting the police!”   
  
Chat had met the man a few times already; the police chief gave the impression of a titan, one capable of holding the weight of the whole Paris upon his shoulders. The tall, dark-haired man’s very appearance could make one tremble, yet his reputation made people tremble even more. As far as Noir knew, Monsieur Dupree had but one unsolved case; the bridge shooting whose victim was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“How can I help?” Chat asked, taking a seat.

“Snakes are writhing in the 13th arrondissement,” André Bourgeois sighed. Adrien, who knew the man since childhood, was much surprised to see him take a bottle of cognac out of a drawer and take a swig. The mayor had never been one for alcohol abuse, and as for drinking at work, well, that wasn’t like him at all.

“Snakes?” the hero repeated back.

“The Triad,” Monsieur Dupree clarified.

Chat Noir winced. It was one thing to catch individual criminals, release hostages and rescue kittens from the tree, and completely another – doing against the Chinese mafia. Damn it, the policemen themselves were constantly comparing the Triad to a hornet nest; don’t touch it unless you want trouble. Of course Noir had no intention to refuse helping, but he couldn’t imagine how he could be of use. After all, the Chinese mafia was a rather private ‘club’. The green-eyed blond didn’t look Chinese, and it was unlikely they’ll accept the hero of Paris as a member, so it couldn’t be a matter of infiltration. A raid to ‘decapitate the dragon’? Not likely either, with the organization being more of a hydra than a dragon. Kill one boss – two will appear in his stead. What, then?

“We require nothing supernatural of you, Monsieur Chat,” Alain Dupree hurried to explain, seeing the hero immersed in thoughts. “All we would like is for you to intercept a single package. Alas, the police have their hands tied, and should the package reach its recipient, we’ll have a lot of trouble.”

***

“You want me to _what_?” Marinette asked in surprise.

“For you to intercept a single package,” Madame Zhou repeated. “The police cannot help, and the package must never reach the wrong hands.”

The girl lowered her eyes pensively. The situation was growing weirder by the minute. First, the savior was meeting her not in her office as usual, but in a tinted car. Second, it wasn’t Madame’s personal driver behind the wheel, but her assistant, Yu. Third, before entering the car, Marinette was asked to turn her phone off. And now they’re asking her to intercept some package, as if she’s not a waitress, but some kind of spy!

“I don’t quite understand,” Marinette admitted honestly. Too many questions were racing in her head, and she didn’t dare put words to them yet. What package? Why does she need to be the one intercepting it? Why all the secrecy?

“This package will determine the balance of power in the Chinese diaspora,” Madame Zhou spoke the words softly, like a grandmother telling her beloved grandsons a fairytale. “You do know what the Triad is?”

“M-mafia?” God, anything but that! Her struggle against Hawk Moth was more than enough for Marinette; the last thing she wanted was seven more bullets.

“Precisely,” the older woman smiled. “And now the snake den is in motion, with the boss out of business. No-no-no, don’t think anything bad” Madame Zhou waved her hand, noticing how Marinette’s eyes widened. “I don’t intend to take over. I’m merely interested in one particular person not being put in charge of the organization. Otherwise, a lot of my girls are going to have problems.”

It wasn’t hard to understand that by ‘girls’ Madame Zhou meant the Chinese females selling their bodies in the various massage parlors, bars and clubs. At first, upon learning that her savior was the patron of the Parisian prostitutes, Marinette wasn’t sure how to react. Being a heroine and a chaste girl as a matter of principle, she frowned upon such practice to the extreme. Except there was nothing she could do. Madame Zhou had absolutely no intention to leave her business. Moreover, the Chinese woman was proud at not forcing any of her charges into the trade, unlike what most of her predecessors did, and what had once been done to her. Marinette knew that, should she turn the woman in, a new pimp will come in her place. Besides, she couldn’t do that to the person who saved her life. The only thing left was turning a blind eye upon Madame Zhou’s illegal activity, hold in her loathing to this kind of business and be glad no one was asking Emma Lee to repay saving her with her body. And Marinette was fully aware that, should Madame Zhou decide to drag her into the trade after all, a few scars won’t be an obstacle.

“But I’m not sure I can do it.”

“Emma Lee, indeed, cannot do that,” Madame Zhou agreed. “However, Ladybug might be able to assist.”  
  
Marinette’s eyes widened even more, her breath was taken away, and the hammering of her heart drowned out all other noises. Damn it, she knew her greatest secret? Did she from the start? Then why did she pretend to know nothing? Did they save her just because she could be useful in the future?

“When my girls fished you out of Seine, you were wearing your hero costume,” the woman answered her unspoken question. “So, yes. I knew your identity from the start, Ladybug. Or should I call you Marinette Dupain-Cheng? That name is known to me as well; the news kept running the recording of your murder for half a year.”

“But w-why did-didn’t you sa-say anything?” Marinette had zero success hiding the trembling in her voice.

“I believed you wanted to keep your identity secret,” from Madame Zhou’s tone, one could think they were discussing plans for dinner, instead of the greatest secret of the heroine of Paris. “Thanks to me, you’ve lived in peace for six years. Don’t you believe it’s time to pay the piper?”  
  
“Since you know I stood on the guard of Paris,” the girl managed to take back a measure of self-control. “You must realize I am against breaking law.”

“I understand,” the Chinese woman nodded. “But in this case, we are both in the same boat. Should the package reach its destination, the mafia wars will drown the city in blood. Isn’t it a heroine’s duty, to stop it? Besides, you didn’t really worry about laws when you asked me for an ID with a new name.”

“What’s in the package, and why is that man so dangerous?” For the first time in a while, Marinette’s blue eyes were blazing with Ladybug’s confidence.

***

Madame Zhou was comparing the Chinese mafia to an ancient octopus, grasping the whole world in its tentacles. Even though it was claimed that the Triad had only appeared in the 17th century, she was convinced that the organization had appeared simultaneously with the Chinese civilization. And it could not be destroyed, not with its ties to the common people being as strong as they are. No; most Chinese, of course, were law-abiding. But even they sometimes needed protection; the defense of that kraken, whose tentacles have penetrated into nearly every state. The closed Chinese communities – the Chinatowns – were seemingly outside the reach of the local policemen. No Chinese would testify against their own, and so the police was powerless against the Triad.

‘If you can’t beat them, join them – but don’t abandon the belief in your morals’ – that was the decision of Madame Zhou when she, a long time ago, had entered the ranks of the criminal organization. The former prostitute assumed patronage over the Parisian courtesans of Chinese origin. Thanks to her actions, no one forced the girls to sell themselves anymore, no one was beating them up, and any girl who wanted out of the trade, could buy out her freedom at a moderate price. Madame Zhou was proud of having never dirtied her hands in another’s blood.

But people like her were few in the highest echelons of the Triad. Most did not shy away from trading drugs, arms, and, in case of some members, even people and their organs. The current head of the Paris subdivision of the Chinese organization, up until recently, did manage to keep the pack of heartless cutthroats at bay, but now an illness was draining his strength by the day and hour. He was yet to announce his successor, but the rumors were it will be one Liu Jin, and that would mean the days of peace will be over.

Liu Jin could be rightfully listed among the ten most heartless scum who ever lived. He dealt with human kidnapping, organ trafficking, frameups, racketeering, drug and arms trade. It seemed the man had broken as many articles of the Penal Code as one person could. And should he stand at the head of the French subdivision of the Triad, there would be absolutely nothing restraining him.

Of course, a lot of people were displeased at that, but few would have had the courage to stand up to him.

Another candidate for the leader’s position was the owner of most Chinese restaurants in France, Xiao Lu. This man, while part of the Triad’s elite, was mainly dabbling in the illegal in order to protect the fellow countrymen. Helping immigrants with new documents, finding a flat or a job, teaching a lesson to some French bandits bullying Asian – any Chinese who needed these things could turn to Monsieur Xiao.

According to Madame Zhou, should Xiao Lu take charge, nothing will change in Paris. The octopus will be there, but won’t actively harm the city. But should Liu Jin become the new head, he will immediately start redrawing the influence zones’ borders – in blood. Innocent citizens will inevitably be harmed.

But the main problem wasn’t Liu Jin, but a dark horse named Wang Bao – the sick boss’s right hand. No one knew what to expect of him. And he was the one for whom the package from China was intended; a package that would determine who will be in the head of the Chinese mafia in Paris.

***

“Let’s say I intercept the package,” Marinette said once Madame Zhou finished her story. “What next?”

“We’ll check the contents,” the Chinese woman answered. “If it has anything proving Liu Jin’s crimes, we might even hand it to the police. In any case, we shouldn’t decide upon further action before you do your job.”

“And if I refuse?”

“That’s your right,” Madame Zhou nodded. “But will you be able to sleep in peace once Liu Jin starts rampaging?”

“How much time do I have to think?” Her gut feeling told the former heroine of Paris, that things aren’t as simple as Madame Zhou tried to present them. But if the part about the consequences of Liu Jin taking charge were true, Marinette’s conscience would have never allowed to abandon the city unprotected. First of all, she had to discuss the matter with Tikki. Maybe the kwami, who’s been alive for thousands of years, had ideas or some useful experience?

“You need to give your answer tomorrow.”

***

While Madame Zhou knew who used to hide behind Ladybug’s mask, she didn’t appear to know the former heroine’s redheaded pal was no mere mortal himself. Not only was Nathaniel Kurtzberg the current holder of the Butterfly Miraculous, he also, unlike certain ladybugs, was using his powers quite often. Yes, due to the former Hawk Moth’s atrocities, the powers of the Miraculous were limited, but Kurtzberg found a better use for the butterflies. He couldn’t empower people, but was quite capable of watching them, even when outside the costume. Moreover, one butterfly was constantly watching Marinette Dupain-Cheng, so he learned of both Madame Yu’s night visit and the conversation with Madame Zhou at once.

Which is why, as soon as Marinette exited the older woman’s car, a white moth sat on her shoulder, carrying a message from the new Hawk Moth.

“A regular conference day, this one is,” Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng sighed, guessing that her friend was watching her after all. Well, she was about to tell him everything anyway, so now she could save a bit of time.  
  
Except that, ever since she learned her savior knew her greatest secret, Marinette was reluctant to meet Nathaniel personally or call him on the phone. Thanks to Tikki, Dupain-Cheng was confident her roomlet had no bugs, but what if someone was wiretapping? Which is why, once back in her cramped flat, the girl locked the door, drew the curtains tight, and, praying to all the gods that Chat Noir was currently untransformed and therefore incapable of spotting her signal, put her heroine costume on for the first time in seven years.

The feelings of freedom, lightness and confidence shrouded the heroine in a pink flash. She had an overwhelming desire to grab her yo-yo again and go flying among the Parisian high-rises, but the fear of returning was stronger than the desire. Overcoming the excitement from her transformation (she felt like she travelled seven years into the past, to when she still loved Adrien, lived with her parents, was Alya’s friend and Chloé’s enemy) , Ladybug switched the yo-yo into communicator mode. Not seeing a green paw on the screen, the heroine let out a relieved sigh and pressed the purple moth’s image.

“May I say welcome back?” the dark-purple-suited hero snickered.

“That’s just temporary,” Ladybug replied. “You did hear everything, right?”

Hawk Moth nodded in confirmation, and the Lady continued:

“What do you think about this?” she asked. “You did tell me once your butterflies can see into human hearts. How honest was Madame Zhou?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot read thoughts,” Hawk Moth shrugged. “I can only determine feelings. She was confident, as if knowing right away how you’ll act. Generally, I found no desire to lie. She certainly left something out, but what – I can’t tell. Couldn’t check the ones Madame Zhou spoke of, since I don’t have enough information to find them, but my butterflies are currently combing the city.”  
  
“We have until tomorrow evening. Is that enough for you?”

“Can’t promise. In theory, I can find any person; in practice, it’s all much more complicated. Finding you, back then, took me three weeks.”

“How about a different approach?” Ladybug had a sudden thought. “Can you scan for what people feel when Liu Jin is mentioned? Along with all others, including Madame Zhou?”

“It will be done,” the Moth Lord smiled. Except his answer remained unheard; a green paw appeared onscreen, making Ladybug drop the connection and detransform at once. With a sigh, Kurtzberg followed her example. He had no desire to meet Chat Noir.

***

Nathaniel had often caught himself thinking how he despised Chat Noir. He blamed the tailed hero for failing to look after Ladybug, letting her go negotiate with Hawk Moth – Agreste alone, and allowing the attempt on Marinette’s life. Even though the guy understood that the Lady never told Chat anything about her plans, it did nothing to change Nate’s attitude toward Noir. Somehow, he wanted to believe that, were he Ladybug’s partner, everything would have been different. He would have never allowed Marinette to meet her enemy alone, wouldn’t have allowed her to reveal herself, would have protected her from everyone!..

Just like in the comics he used to draw during their school years.

Except now, unlike back then, Nathaniel did have a superpower. Maybe not one that he dreamed of, when he imagined himself as an all-powerful artist, but still capable of aiding the heroine of Paris. He was unimaginably happy at himself, rather that Chat, knowing Ladybug’s identity, and himself, not Noir, being able to make contact with her whenever he wanted.

Was that jealousy? Yes, most likely. But how come Nate was jealous of Noir rather than Adrien (which would have made more sense, considering Marinette’s own feelings), that he didn’t know.

Perhaps he realized that, even should Marinette return home, she will never end up with the young Agreste. Yes, he could see she still loved the former classmate, despite her insisting otherwise. Yes, at Gabriel Agreste’s funeral, he was hoping these feelings will drive her to return home. But Nathaniel was certain Marinette would have never attempted more. How could she end up with the son of a man who had almost killed her?

Noir’s position was completely different. Whenever they were talking about him, longing and sorrow were obvious in Marinette’s eyes. The former partner, with whom Ladybug went to hell and back, had a special place in her heart. A place which, damn it, Nathaniel wanted to take so much!

The white butterfly sitting on Kurtzberg’s palm briefly flashed black.


	6. When the Heroes are Powerless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: The italics in the second part of the chapter indicate phrases spoken in Chinese.

The police chief had talked Noir’s ears off over the horrors that awaited Paris should Liu Jin take control of the Triad, and the fact that the police cannot officially interfere in the matter. According to Alain Dupree, should Noir intercept the package, it could be attached to a case as proof of the Chinese mobster’s crimes, while the policemen had their hands tied by the need to follow procedure. But as for what the package contained, that Monsieur Dupree didn’t tell.

Noir had a feeling that matters weren’t nearly as simple as presented. He knew it was his duty not to allow blood-filled gang wars, yet somehow, it seemed to him that his interference will only exacerbate the situation.

“Nathalie, what do you think of all that?” Adrien decided to share his concerns.

At first, he tried to talk with Plagg about the matter, but the kwami had once again dismissed him by claiming he understands cheese, not people. Alas, the matter could only be discussed with people who knew about Adrien’s ‘side job’. There were only four such people, and two of them were currently abroad, while Chloé already had plenty of dealing with his whining about Marinette (besides, it was her father who asked Noir for help). Therefore, the only one left was the one recently enlightened about Chat Noir’s secret, Nathalie Sancoeur.

“Monsieur Agreste, I’m no expert in these matters,” the woman admitted honestly, fixing her glasses. “I’m a secretary, not a hero or a policeman.”

“First, since when do you call me Monsieur Agreste?” Adrien pretended to be outraged. Monsieur Dupree’s request did manage to distract him from his anguish for a while, but the dull eyes still betrayed how much he missed Marinette. “You’re family to me, and family address each other by name. Second, you are not a secretary, but a full-fledged partner who owns thirty percent of the stocks… well, is going to own them as soon as we complete due procedure,” – with a tired sigh, the guy glanced at the mountain of papers he and Nathalie were working on for the second week already. “And third, I might be a hero, but I don’t know what to do myself. You are a smart woman, give me some helpful advice.”

“What worries you, exactly?” Nathalie was grinning on the inside, realizing that she had been promoted from a supervillain’s secretary to a superhero’s assistant.

“Here, look,” Agreste pulled a clean sheet of paper out of a printer and started drawing the patterns. “There is a package that contains nobody knows what, and the police want to get it. And there are three crooks who dream of ruling the Triad. One of them,” Adrien drew a devil with horns, “is the worst of all evils. At the same time, whatever the package contains, it can both help him get power and stop him from doing that. And now imagine I enter the situation.”

Nathalie noticed that the cat face was drawn by Adrien with much more attention than everything else.

“Not quite your style,” Sancoeur answered after a bit of thinking. “You are usually stopping and catching criminals, not intercepting mail.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” he slapped the sheet. Adrien was yet to speak his question, and already Nathalie realized what was bothering him. She hadn’t been Gabriel Agreste’s right hand all these years for nothing. “Monsieur Dupree says I must under no conditions reveal I have received my instructions from the police. And if not the police, then…”

“The mobsters might believe one of them managed to get the hero of Paris on their side,” Nathalie finished the thought, “or yet another side has entered the game.”

“And somehow, I feel Monsieur Dupree did not omit that detail by accident.”

“You think he wants mob wars among the Chinese?” Sancoeur asked in surprise.

“Everything is possible,” Adrien nodded. “They are quiet as mice now, so it’s hard to bring them to justice for criminal gang membership. Should they start shooting openly, the police has a chance to increase the clearance rate significantly. With the hero who stirred the anthill receiving all the blame.”

“You think they intend to make you a scapegoat?”

“Cat,” he corrected. “A scapecat”

***

While Adrien was afraid him interfering when in costume might cause even more problems, Marinette had absolutely no intention of transforming in the first place. She already had to act without a mask once, when Princess Fragrance had attacked Paris, and that’s what she intended now. The last thing she needed was for someone to spot the missing heroine! Emma Lee would have a much easier time staying unnoticed. Besides, when she agreed to the job, she made Madame Zhou promise that should it be necessary, the Chinese woman will help her get a new ID. But still, she was forced to hear plenty of lectures from both Tikki and Nate about how stupid it was to do such a dangerous task without her spotted costume.

Unfortunately, Nathaniel was yet to gather enough information, but his omnipresent butterflies were a great help in recon. In order to learn whether there is a man behind a corner, or cutthroats with guns standing behind a door, you had no need to peek behind the corner, nor open the door. All you needed was to wait for a white butterfly to scout the area, and then listen to Hawk Moth’s instructions out of the earpiece.

My, had anyone told Marinette seven years ago, that she’ll be working with Hawk Moth as her partner instead of Chat Noir, she would have never believed.

Actually, right now, dressed in a black skintight sports suit, she resembled her former partner far more than she did Ladybug. She only needed the cat ears, bell, belt-tail and the stupid puns to complete the picture. The face was hidden by a hood and a surgical mask. The girl couldn’t resist drawing a cat’s face on it.

According to Madame Zhou, the package was to be transferred over in a currently shut-down facility of a textile factory owned by Antoine Pierrot. Whether the magnate who was harassing Marinette at Gabriel Agreste’s funeral was connected to the Triad, or the building owned by him was chosen by the criminals for some other reasons, she wasn’t told. Nor how come Madame Zhou knew such details in the first place.

As soon as the butterflies scanned the entire building, finding neither ambushes nor traps, Marinette sneaked in (thankfully, with Tikki’s help locks were no obstacle), opened an air vent’s hatch and crawled toward the room where Wang Bao, surrounded by a dozen armed henchmen, was waiting for the package to arrive.

“Three hours before the scheduled hour, and these are already in position,” a voice came out of the earpiece.

“Please don’t talk about time,” Marinette whispered as quietly as possible. The last thing she needed was getting spotted! “You’re not the one who’ll be stuck in this cramped vent for three more hours.”

***

The time dragged on slowly. Only the heavy steps of a bandit pacing in circles around the room were proving it didn’t stop. But soon Wang Bao, tired of the flickering in front of him, ordered the henchman ‘Stop!’ in Chinese, forcing him to stand at attention and no longer draw his annoyed boss’s eyes. From time to time, Nathaniel gave her the information received from his butterflies, but Marinette could not answer; the lingering silence would have made even a whisper from her seem deafeningly loud. Tikki was sleeping peacefully in her pocket, and Marinette, who spent the night poring over their plans, really wanted to follow her example.

From sitting in such an uncomfortable position – after all, a narrow air shaft could not be exactly called comfortable – her whole body was going asleep. The legs were tingling slightly; Marinette even had to squeeze her eyes shut in order to hold in a yelp when she tried to shift in order to rub the numb limbs. Done with her legs, the girl tried to flex her neck a bit, but accidentally grazed the hatch.

The rattling drew the bandits’ attention, making them grab their guns as a reflex.

Marinette froze, afraid to so much as breathe, much less move.

The air hatch looked like blinds with no possibility of adjusting the angle. Through the slits, the girl could see perfectly well how several of the men were looking around for the source of the sound.

“Relax, no one can see you from the outside,” Nathaniel tried to reassure her, but worry was obvious in his voice.

True, Marinette could not be seen. But she had already given herself away with the noise. Soon some bandit will guess where the sound came from – it was only a matter of time; there could be no other sources of sound here.

Or could there be?

A gray rat ran out of nowhere, rushing among the feet of the surprised Chinese, chasing a white butterfly.

Marinette sighed in relief, promising herself to thank Nathaniel for saving her.  


***

It’s been awhile since Wang Bao’s men grew tired of discussing the strange rat, leaving the factory shrouded in silence again. Seriously, while they were arguing whether the rodent wanted to eat the butterfly or was chasing it for some other reason, Marinette could at least move a couple of times. But now she was forced to sit hunched over with her head down, because the cramped ventilation shaft was leaving no other options!

She felt like the neck, which she never did manage to stretch properly, had a huge iron rod inside it. Whenever she tried to turn or raise her head, she felt as if something was squeaking inside. She could really use a good massage now, but first she had to at least handle Madame Zhou’s assignment.

If anyone felt good and comfortable, that was Tikki. Marinette could feel how the spotted kwami was slumbering peacefully in her pocket, secretly envying her. Maybe there had been no need to think over all possible outcomes so meticulously? After all, out of the eighteen ways to infiltrate the factory, Marinette was successful with the very first one right away. And in a tough situation, she would have most certainly been helped by the same intuition that once allowed Ladybug to find a use for her ‘Lucky Charm’ within seconds.

The girl yawned silently, not even bothering to cover her mouth. A silence below; even Wang Bao had allowed his underlings to sit down and rest, even though at first, he demanded a nearly military stance of them. Now, one of them was actually starting to nod off!

Didn’t look like Marinette was the only one wanting a nap.

The head was growing heavier, the eyelids were slowly sliding shut, and the thought that, once the package is delivered, Nate, who was watching the situation, will wake her up, was really tempting her to surrender to the drowsiness.

But she didn’t manage to fall asleep.

“We’ve got guests,” the encroaching sleep was scattered by Nathaniel’s voice.

Marinette checked the time, and found she still had an hour left.

“No, not the package,” Hawk Moth replied to her unasked question. “You won’t believe it; your ex.”

***

Cats are truly amazing creatures! Sometimes, the trampling of four feline paws could be compared to a horse herd stampede, but when necessary, their steps became utterly silent. Chat Noir, the hero of Paris, shared the same talent, and had used it to sneak into the factory building without making a single sound and hide on a beam under the ceiling.

It was an hour before the scheduled time, and the hero, glancing over the bandits awaiting the delivery of the package, once again went over the plan in his head. Him and Nathalie came to the conclusion, that it would be wiser not to take the package away during the delivery (as Monsieur Dupree demanded) but steal it afterwards. That way, Noir had better chances to conceal his connection to the incident. He might not be noticed at all! Of course, that might make it harder to attach the package’s contents to a case, but that problem can be handled later; after all, the hero’s first intention was not improving the clearance rates, but preventing bloody gang wars in the city.

The silence was broken by a string of curses in Chinese. Wang Bao, just like the hiding heroes, was complaining about the time dragging on. However, Chat’s sensitive hearing caught some barely perceptible rustle from somewhere in the air vents. The hero was in no hurry to investigate the source; that could give him away. But in his head, he ordered himself to be alert, preparing for the possible interference of a third side.

Even though in his heart, Chat was praying for mice being the source of the noise.

Some time later, Noir heard several cars approaching the factory. Right after that, another rustle came from the vent, convincing Chat that rodents weren’t the matter. He could only hope that he had noticed that someone’s presence in the shaft before they spotted the hero of Paris.

But here’s the strange thing; Noir only learned of the approaching cars thanks to his enhanced feline hearing. The bandits below didn’t even suspect yet that the ones they were expecting had already arrived. But the person in the air vent had moved almost at once, despite always sitting still so as not to draw attention. Coincidence? Or did they know the guests were here already?

Chat Noir was liking the situation less and less.

Finally, one of Monsieur Wang’s henchmen, who was watching out for the cars outside up until now, entered the room to tell they had arrived. Wang Bao waved his hand, and his escort formed a living corridor from the doors all the way to their boss’s armchair.

The hero of Paris noted that the scene looked like some trashy movie.

A short Chinese man with a scorpion tattoo covering his entire face entered the door. He was followed by fifteen men in black suits, each of them twice as tall as him. Once he exchanged greetings with the tattooed man, Wang Bao inquired about the package.

“ _I wouldn’t have crossed the whole continent empty handed,_ ” the other man answered, his lips twisted in a grin. The man waved a hand, and one of his henchmen pulled a small bundle out of the inside pocket of his coat. “ _The money?_ ” was asked in return.

Wang Bao kicked open the briefcase at his feet, revealing the contents. Noir nearly whistled at the sight. The neat stacks of purple five hundred euro bills were making quite an impressive sum. Yes, that little bag must be valuable indeed.

“ _Are the bills real?_ ” the tattooed man asked.

“ _Is the package full?_ ” Wang Bao rose up unhurriedly.

For a while, the Mafia bosses looked into each other’s eyes tensely, and then they both… laughed, stepped forward and hugged each other tightly. Chat Noir almost fell from the beam in surprise, while the one in the vent, judging from the sounds, had choked on air.

“Here’s your package, little Bao,” the tattooed man spoke, wiping a tear of laughter, and gave a sign for his henchman to hand the mail over.

“Most grateful, second brother,” Monsieur Wang bowed his head in gratitude before reaching out for the package.

The one sitting in the ventilation shaft was moving as if no longer caring about secrecy. Chat looked over at the hatch so as not to miss the person’s appearance should they decide to interfere.

Which is why he missed some of the bandits on both sides grabbing their weapons.

Only upon hearing two loud bangs did Noir look down.

Wang Bao and his older brother were lying dead.


	7. The Ruckus and the Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for the chapter from Snowy Owl: https://vk.com/photo-143615758_456241440  
> Art for the chapter from Alexa: https://vk.com/photo-143615758_456248947

“I don’t like this,” Nathaniel’s worried voice came out of the earpiece. “I feel very bad intentions in some of them. Be careful.”  

Marinette nodded, afraid Noir could hear her whisper. Good thing Nate could see the gesture through the butterfly currently sitting on her shoulder. She pulled the hood on tighter and shifted to have a better view on the events through the slits in the grate.

The moment she saw some of the bandits grab their weapons, she realized what was going to happen. Her vision went dark for a moment, she felt nauseated and dizzy. The memories of being shot on that bridge were rising in a black wave.

Marinette bit her lip. This was no time for reminiscing and giving in to psychological trauma.

“Perhaps you should leave the matter to Noir?” Nathaniel suggested. She shook her head. True, Marinette trusted her former partner unconditionally, and was sure the package would be safe in his hands. But then she won’t be able to repay Madame Zhou.

Two shots rang. Wang and his tattooed brother fell dead to the ground.

Marinette clamped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from vomiting. She’s a heroine, she can handle anything that comes her way. She had to interfere now before it grew worse; there were traitors in both groups, and now nearly thirty men were pointing weapons at each other.

The shooting was bound to start any second.

The suit would have protected her from wounds, but more than getting new bullets, Marinette feared returning to her old life. It was an irrational fear, beyond the girl’s ability to control. Nate was saying something, but with the hammering of her agitated heart echoing in her ears, the girl couldn’t hear a word. She had no intention of becoming Ladybug again.

Marinette kicked open the grate (Tikki had removed the screws in advance) and tossed two cylindrical objects down. She was really hoping the instant smoke cover will shield her from both her old partner’s eyes and the bandits’ bullets.  
  
Shutting her eyes against the acrid smoke, Marinette leaped down and ran for the spot where, as she remembered, the accursed package was lying. She could hear the bandits coughing, allowing her, using her hearing, to avoid running into them. Of course, a surgical mask wasn’t the best defense, but at least she, unlike her enemies, had the time to take a breath before jumping into the smoke screen.

Package grabbed, time for an exit.

Bang!

One of the bandits shot blindly. More shots followed. Your own, the other side – the confused gangsters didn’t care where to shoot. They were too concerned about their own hides, preferring the principle of ‘kill or be killed’.

Marinette was lucky. She got out of that inferno in time.

Judging from the screams intermingling with shots, others weren’t as lucky.   
  
Clutching the package to her chest, the girl was running through the factory corridors outside, where Nathaniel was supposed to be waiting.  


***

Noir had once again caught himself thinking he constantly looks in the wrong direction. Had he, as a teen, not been looking at Ladybug all the time, he might have noticed Marinette. Had he been looking more closely at his father, he would not have allowed him to terrorize the city and send assassins after the Princess. Had he, a minute ago, not been looking at the air vent grate, he would have seen the two crime bosses being shot. Had he not been looking at the corpses of the Wang brothers, he would have noticed the two smoke grenades being tossed out of the air vent.

And now, with that damn smoke, he couldn’t see a thing!

Of course, the hero, on his beam right under the ceiling, was well out of reach of the smoke screen, but, damn it, all the events below were now concealed from his sight.

The only thing he managed to notice was a shade leaping from the ventilation shaft and rushing right into the thick of events.

“The one thing we lacked, a ninja,” Chat shook his head.

A shot rang below, and mere seconds later, the bandits started firing randomly. The hero, struggling to see anything at all, did manage to see a black shade leaping through a doorway and sped outside, clutching something to their chest.

“The package!” Noir shouted, thankfully unheard due to the firefight below.

He leapt off his spot and into a chase. Chat didn’t jump down (it was chaos without him already), but instead exited to the roof in two leaps. Anyway, he did see which exit that someone was headed for, so that’s where he went at once.  
  
Except the estimated time of the shade’s appearance had passed, yet no one was exiting the building. Chat was certain that the someone was running for these doors, since, having ran out of the smoke-filled room, the stranger turned that way. Then why were they still in the building?

Or were they?

No wonder Ladybug used to call him Silly Kitty. Akuma possess him, he’d been duped!

The shade left the building through the other exit, and the sudden roar of a motorcycle indicated that Noir will have to sweat if he wanted to catch them.

***

Noir was really sorry for being a Cat rather than a cheetah. Damn it, even with the speed he could make in his hero costume, catching an almost two hundred kph motorcycle wasn’t easy at all.

Worst of all, the motorcycle had no number plate to allow identifying the owner. Also, the driver and the shade behind him (a woman, judging from the figure) were both wearing helmets, preventing the hero from seeing their faces.

No, scratch that. Much worse was the fact that the motorcycle was headed for a freeway with no houses along it, denying Chat the possibility of roof running. The motorcycle, on the other hand, was getting the chance to accelerate even more.

Pity Ladybug wasn’t here! She could have definitely tied the fleeing strangers with her yo-yo. Noir, of course, could have put a spoke… a staff in their wheel, but then, for one thing, the two probably wouldn’t have survived at this speed, and for another, the hero of Paris would have had to stop for that, and so lose all chance at catching them.

Immersed in the chase, Noir was so focused of the fleeing motorcycle, that he almost flew over the roof edge a few times, thankfully saved from the fall by his reflexes and an extended staff. Holy, never before did the hero have to make a single leap as long as the ones he was now making over and over again!

Yet the worst did happen; the motorcycle reached the freeway before Chat Noir caught up with them.

Heroes don’t give up!

The road was quite busy at this hour, so, not slowing down one bit, Noir leaped off the roof of a building and onto the roof of a truck headed in the same direction as the motorcycle.

Except the speed comparison wasn’t in the truck’s favor. Staying on, there was no way Chat would have caught up with the nimble motorcycle.

A leap from the truck onto a car, from there onto an SUV, then another truck.

The motorcycle kept accelerating, weaving between the cars at a crazy speed (had the policemen decided to fine the driver, it would have been great for the city budget!), but Noir had no intention to surrender either.

The hero, of course, did realize him and his leaps were creating an emergency, but something was telling him he must under no circumstances let the motorcycle get away from him.

And it wasn’t just the package that shade stole from the Chinese men.

His intuition was insisting; this is something bigger. Chat was feeling that the outcome of the chase will decide his own fate.

He must catch up with the shade no matter what!

From the truck onto another rig, from there onto a pickup, then a minivan, then a sportscar.

The gap wasn’t growing that fast anymore, but didn’t show any intention of shrinking either. Seriously, what idiot decided to make hogs with this kind of engine?

One could try catching a motorcycle while sitting on a sportscar’s roof, but, given the maneuverability of the two-wheeled monster, Chat had little confidence in the mission’s success.

Another leap – and Noir is on a minivan’s roof.

One more – Chat’s on a red sedan. Leaping off it onto a hatchback, Noir chanced a momentary glance to make sure he was right. He was; the sportscar was far behind, even though it was catching up with the minivan.

The next leap brought the hero of Paris onto the roof of a pink SVU, whose driver almost crashed into a lamp post from the sudden jar. But Noir didn’t see that, because in that moment he was already landing onto another sportscar, and from it onto another minivan.

Soon luck, in the form of buildings along the road, was once again on Chat’s side. After all, still surfaces were much easier to move across.

In a leap, Noir made it to the roof of a five-story building, from which, extending his staff, he vaulted over two more houses, finding himself on the roof of a seven-story one.

Back in his element again, the hero felt a surge of confidence. It made him feel as if he could jump even farther now.

His legs are definitely gonna hurt tonight.

But that’s tonight. And maybe tomorrow, and throughout the next week.

Now, Noir only required one thing; catching this damn motorcycle.

No longer due to Alain Dupree’s request, but first of all for his own sake. Out of principle. What kind of Cat is he going to be, if he loses a game of ‘Cat-and-Mouse’?

Noir was amazed at himself; never before did he suspect such speeds were possible for him. The gap between him and the motorcycle was steadily shrinking. Chat could feel it – just a little more, and he’ll catch the two.

A leap, then another, then another.

His lungs were burning, but Chat wasn’t going to stop. His target was close; too late to give up now.

Two – three more leaps, and he can catch them!

One.

Landing on the roof of a mall, Noir shifted the grip on his staff for comfort.

Two.

A billboard placed on another roof was his next landing spot.

Three…

Midair, Chat realized to his horror that the motorcycle made a sharp turn onto a sideroad.

Too late to change the trajectory. Landing on the roof, Noir gritted his teeth in annoyance; the gap grew again. A sharp spin on his heels, and Chat was on his way again.

Doesn’t matter. He almost caught up with them once, he can do it again.

From roof to roof to a billboard to a roof again.

The motorcycle was no longer on the freeway, causing its speed to drop significantly. Just a bit more, and Noir will be close to victory again.

A leap, then another, just a bit more to go!..

Once again, but one leap was separating them. Now, the chase was definitely over.

His eyes firmly on the target, Chat braced for the leap of victory. And right before his legs lifted off the edge of another roof, the hero saw, as if in slow motion, how the motorcycle driver waved his arm, and then sped up again, ignoring the red traffic light.

And the next second, Noir’s view was obstructed by a sudden swarm of white-winged butterflies right in front of the hero’s face. Butterflies just like the ones that used to leave his beautiful Lady’s yo-yo after each cleansing.

By the time Chat had managed to chase them away, the motorcycle was nowhere to be seen.

The chase ended in his foes’ favor.


	8. The Lull and the Intentions

The package was empty.

Well, it was stuffed with some old newspapers to make it seem otherwise, but that’s not the point. It contained nothing that could affect the balance of power in the Triad. However, the murder of Wang Bao and the abandoned factory shooting did have their effect; the snake den was stirring.

It didn’t take a genius to guess the real package had been intercepted even before the shooting started, that with Wang Bao’s killer being the same person who handed the package to him. But who was behind all this, considering there were traitors on both sides?

Marinette had described the events thoroughly to Madame Zhou, only leaving out the fact of her helper being the new Hawk Moth instead of a regular person. The girl couldn’t possibly hide the fact of Chat Noir’s presence at the scene; thanks to dozens of dashcams, the hero chasing the motorcycle was blowing up the Net. Good thing Madame Yu had provided a motorcycle (currently somewhere at the bottom of Seine) for the operation, otherwise Marinette had no idea what she would have done if caught by her former partner.

Unlike Marinette’s expectations, Madame Zhou did not demand that she find the real package nor the one responsible for the factory shooting. In fact, the older Chinese had informed the girl that her debt is paid in full, and she could now live in peace, without worries about someone revealing either of her identities. Except sincere worry was plain in Madame Zhou’s eyes, and Nathaniel confirmed a serious sense of alarm detected by his butterflies.

Even though Madame Zhou had stated she no longer needed Ladybug’s help, Marinette knew her savior won’t stand idly at the sidelines. Besides, the city was being threatened by the gangsters fighting for power. Hence, the former heroine could not let matters slide, even though she had no idea what she could do.

She did, however, give some thought to the matter.

“Madame Zhou believes that either Liu Jin is behind everything, or a new candidate for the senior post is, so we’ll have to wait until they reveal themselves,” she shared her plans with Nathaniel, who was at her place again. “But first, I’m going back to work.”

“I’ll tell you once I learn something,” Kurtzberg sighed, looking at the white butterfly sitting on his index finger. “Me and Nooroo are scanning the city just about non-stop, but it’s dead quiet so far.”

“Must be the calm before the storm,” Marinette leaned on her windowsill. Her apartment was no prize-winner when it came to the view, the window only allowing the ‘scenery’ of the gray wall of the next building. But even that ‘landscape’ was putting her in the mood for reflections. “And I wish this storm will stay within the borders of the Chinatown.”

“Should a general redrawing of gang zones start in the city, others may join in as well,” Nathaniel spoke his mind, unthinkingly lowering his gaze to the hips of the girl standing with her back to him. “Honest, up until recently I had no idea there were so many foreign criminal organizations in France; Italians, Russians, Americans, Arabs… It’s like the criminal Paris has no place for the French in it!”

“You think of running for the position of the French mafia king?” Marinette chuckled, completely unaware of the kind of stare which was currently studying her.

“No, I’ll pass,” Nate smiled in return, even though his hostess could not see it. “Gabriel Agreste leaving me the tainted reputation of Hawk Moth is more than enough. I’m probably an outlaw already, considering your Kitty must believe I and my moths are responsible for the shooting.”

“Speaking of Noir,” the young woman turned to face her guest, making him snap his now red face up. “Did you look inside his heart? What does he think of all the situation?”

Nathaniel shook his head.

“The kwami magic shields the heroes from my butterflies,” was Nate’s answer. She didn’t notice what he was staring at, right?

“But you did find me with your moths,” Marinette noted. Looks like she didn’t.

“He was looking for the maskless you, not Ladybug,” Nooroo joined the conversation as his charge was sighing in relief. “Were you wearing the costume, he would not have been able to find you. And had I not told him you were Ladybug, Nathaniel would not have been able to glimpse it in your heart no matter how much he tried.”

Marinette nodded to show she understood. She did use to wonder how come Gabriel Agreste had been sending villains to terrorize the city instead of searching for the heroes with his all-seeing butterflies, but she never dared to ask. Now it was clear; the old Hawk Moth simply couldn’t have done it.

“I know I asked you many times over the last three years,” Nathaniel interrupted her reflections. “But perhaps you’ll consider coming back?”

“My answer isn’t going to change,” Marinette was as adamant as ever. She folded her arms and bit her lower lip, trying to demonstrate steadfastness with everything she had.

“Even as Ladubug? I’m afraid the city will need its heroine again.”

“Mafia, strictly speaking, is the police’s business,” Marinette noted. “Besides, the city has enough heroes without me; you, Noir. You’re not going to shift your work onto my frail shoulders, right?”

Tikki shook her head, and Nooroo giggled quietly, looking at how Nathaniel’s face twisted. Kurtzberg really didn’t want to partner up with Chat Noir, but he had no retort.

“Of course, I won’t be sitting this out,” Marinette continued. “But I’ll be acting as Emma Lee. And this is not up for debate.”

***

The roof of the fifty-seven story skyscraper known as Tour Montparnasse gave an excellent view of Paris. Once, Chat Noir decided to check how far his staff can extend. Considering he had managed to get from the ground all the way up to the Tour’s roof, two hundred and ten meters were no limit for the hero’s weapon.

Just seven years ago, he used to dream of a romantic date with Ladybug, ending with the two of them enjoying the scenery of night Paris from this very roof. What a naïve dummy Adrien was back then. Blinded by the bright mask, he didn’t notice the love of his life sitting at the desk behind him. He only needed to turn, reach out – and he could have clenched her hand tightly, to never let it go.

And now? Agreste didn’t even know whether she’s okay. True, Plagg did say Ladybug’s earrings didn’t change their owner, nor did they return to the Guardian, so Marinette couldn’t have died. But her body had been pierced with seven bullets, and then she fell into Seine. Surviving that is a miracle already, returning to normal life after that… Damn it, the fact of her being alive didn’t mean his Lady couldn’t be on the brink between life and death right now; a vegetable in a hospital bed!

An intolerable thought.

His chest aching, Noir felt as if he was lacking air. He knew he had to take his sedatives, but in order to take that treasured jar out of his pocket, Noir had to detransform. True, no one could see him on the roof of Tour Montparnasse, but Adrien couldn’t remove his hero costume; that was above all at the moment, because during such attacks, he felt too vulnerable without a mask.

Because that horrible day, his Lady wasn’t transformed.

Noir hugged his knees, his body shaking with tremors. His teeth were chattering as if he was just swimming in ice water, despite his suit being an excellent protection against cold.

“Sh-she’s a-alive,” Noir was repeating, stuttering from his shallow, accelerated breathing. “Mar-rinette i-is a-alive. I-I’ll fi-find her. M-my La-lady…”

Alas, that wasn’t helping him calm down. Again, the assassination scene was rising in front of his eyes. His imagination was completing it with the most horrible consequences. What if she had never opened her eyes since? What if he’ll never see her smile again? And what if Marinette was still balancing between life and death, and could die at any moment? Right this very minute, second!

“Claws in!” Chat shot out, clutching his hair.

The kwami realized what’s the matter as soon as he flew out of the ring, so he hurried to answer before the question was voiced.

“Alive!” Plagg stated. He lost count of the times this kind of thing happened. “Her earrings didn’t change their owner.”

Adrien’s breath started going back to normal, but his heart was still hammering with the same worry.

Alive… Then why didn’t she return after his father’s death? Marinette undoubtedly knew who sent the hitmen after her. If she was afraid of her mortal foe attempting revenge again, she certainly couldn’t feel threatened now! Adrien was so eager for her to ‘come alive’ at the funeral. That’s what he would have done. Or at least, he would have come to look at his would-be murderer’s lifeless body. Then why, damn it, was Agreste yet to see her smile again?

“Cut it off, pal,” the kitten kwami requested, putting a tiny paw on his shoulder. “You’ll get another attack if you keep it like that. One day, we’re going to find you’re Lady, and what will you tell her? ‘I’ve been whining and moping instead of guarding the city in your absence’?”

“Not funny Plagg,” Adrien grumbled. Yet his little friend’s words had their effect; his heartbeat was coming back to normal. Chat could not disappoint his Lady; therefore, he had no right to give in to weakness.

“I’m not joking,” the cheese-eater folded his paws on his chest. “I am trying to remind you that you’re yet to deal with the Chinese gangsters and feed me Camembert.”

“Sorry, didn’t bring any cheese along,” Adrien whispered, lowering his head in guilt.

As little as seven years ago, Adrien would have snapped something about the black kwami’s gluttony, but lately, seeing the charge’s condition, Plagg didn’t demand his favorite delicacy that often. It’s been a long time since the young man had grumbled about how horrible cheese smelled, and without it, even Camembert didn’t taste right.

“So what are you going to do about the Chinese?” not that the question of fighting criminals worried Plagg that much; his duty was transforming his charge into Noir, but this question might distract Adrien from side thoughts.

“We need to find that shade and that biker,” was the answer. “They’ve got the package, but whose side they’re on is unknown. The police are currently trying to figure out who was behind the murder of Wang Bao and that tattooed fellow… Wish we could know whether these people are connected to the shade.”

“I see you can’t get that shade out of your head,” the kwami noted.

“I don’t know why, but I believe I must find her.”

***

“Wait, repeat, what did you say?!” Chloé Bourgeois couldn’t believe her own ears. It’s been three weeks since Gabriel Agreste’s funeral, and only now did Sabrina Raincomprix bother herself with sharing the most critical information. The girl was ready to rip at her hair from anger, but the freshly made styling was stopping her.

“I told you, I imagined it,” Sabrina couldn’t understand what made her friend so excited. “There are plenty of people in the world who look similar.”

“You should have told me right away,” Chloé roared in fury through her clenched teeth. “Was that so hard?”

“What’s the deal?” Mademoiselle Raincomprix protested. Bourgeois didn’t accuse people of all mortal sins nearly as much lately, like she used to in collège, but that only made the accusations all the harder to bear. With every word and tone shift the blond could inject a dose of concentrated poison into her interlocutor’s heart. Damn it, from these, as she believed, unfounded accusations, Sabrina could have turned into Vanisher again, had Hawk Moth not vanished himself seven years ago!

“What’s the deal?!” the Mayor’s daughter exploded. She stepped toward her friend and poked her in the chest a few times. “What’s the deal? You, damn it, saw Marinette Dupain-Cheng and are asking ‘what’s the deal’?”

“I saw a woman _re-sem-bling_ ,” the upset Sabrina pronounced the word syllable by syllable, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She, if you remember, died seven years ago.”

“She didn’t,” Bourgeois breathed out, flopping down into a soft armchair. The flames of her fury ran out. With a facepalm, she added, “Me and Adrien have spent years looking for her.”

_That_ Sabrina certainly didn’t expect to hear. She opened her mouth in surprise, but couldn’t squeeze out a single word. God, even her thoughts were in complete chaos right now! How could Marinette be alive, if Monsieur Raincomprix, who was part of the investigation, told her people don’t survive that? Except, judging from Chloé’s tone and attitude, she didn’t seem to be lying.

But if Bourgeois and Agreste knew Marinette had managed to survive, why didn’t they tell the police? Why did Chloé never tell Sabrina, her best friend? She had so many questions, that she couldn’t decide which one to ask first, so instead she was standing and staring at Bourgeois in total confusion.

“I can’t tell you everything,” Chloé’s voice broke the reigning silence. She sat in the armchair with her eyes shut, but had a perfectly good idea about the current expression of her friend’s face. “But Marinette being alive is a fact, even though I can’t prove it.”

Sabrina nodded (more to herself than to the friend who couldn’t see her anyway) and slowly sank onto the armchair next to her. It was all so weird; Marinette was alive, Chloé was genuinely concerned about her, and…

“But if Marinette gave no sign of being alive for seven years,” Raincomprix put words to one of her thoughts, “then why was she at Monsieur Agreste’s funeral?”

“Did you forget how crazy she was about Adrien?” Bourgeois was hoping this unconvincing excuse will work. After all, not even to her best… only female friend could she tell Adrien Agreste’s secrets.

“There were security cameras there!” Sabrina realized. “We can check the recordings, and then find her…”

“Except there are no recordings,” Chloé interrupted her friend with such a dejected tone, that Raincomprix decided to keep silent for a while.

The blonde sighed heavily. When the night after the funeral her and Nathalie Sancoeur had started checking the security recordings, they found that throughout the event, in front of, damn them, all thirty eight security camera lenses, there were swarms of hovering white moths completely obstructing the view. Back then, the ladies decided the reason must be the deceased one’s identity. Now Chloé wasn’t so sure. Could the butterflies be connected to Ladybug having visited the funeral after all?

Chloé had to figure it all out. But first…

“Don’t tell Adrien that you saw Marinette,” her tone was one of a clear order. Chat Noir was burdened with enough troubles as it was. Chloé didn’t think Agreste could possibly handle learning that he had missed his beloved while she was right next to him.

She will find Marinette Dupain-Cheng herself, or she isn’t the daughter of the mayor of Paris!


	9. ‘Plum Branch’

Chloé Bourgeois really felt like she needed to go somewhere and clear her head. Seriously; when she decided to find Marinette on her own, not telling Adrien about her having been seen, she didn’t imagine how hard it was! Security cameras were no help, and the sole witness, Sabrina, didn’t even remember what Marinette was wearing! After all, the description ‘a brunette in mourning clothes’ was definitely insufficient when searching for a person who visited a funeral.

Right now, it would be nice to cut loose in some club, pour a couple of shots down her throat, and, for at least one night, forget all her problems and headaches. Except such behavior from the mayor’s daughter could reflect badly on André Bourgeois’ reputation right before the upcoming elections. A few years ago, Chloé’s scandalous fame had almost cost her father his chair, forcing her to review her behavior urgently. Damn, it certainly wasn’t easy to give up the habit of making all her ‘wannas’ reality, using her father’s name as a shield!

Nevermind, now she grew up, and had learned to not only fake model behavior, but to blow off steam as well. The way, of course, was somewhat risky, but the feeling of thrill was worth it.

Looking out of the window at Sabrina walking away, Chloé locked herself in her room and approached the wardrobe. Not even Raincomprix knew that behind its back was another – secret – compartment. Bourgeois didn’t even expect such a thing of herself, when, a while ago, she decided to order some ‘commoner’ clothes on the Net. But the cheap and tasteless (even if that yellow sweater did have some weird charm) garb was excellent disguise. A black wig and mirror sunshades completed the look perfectly. Recognizing that ladette in a black jacket worn over a lacy sundress as the mayor’s daughter was all but impossible, and that was all she needed.

Looking at herself in the mirror once again, the girl nodded at her reflection, and, carefully, peeked out of the door. The hardest part of these outings had always been a discreet escape, because should any of the servants notice her – that would be trouble.

The corridor was empty, and Bourgeois, looking at her side worriedly, scurried toward the elevator. The important deal was to leave her home floor; after that, she would have no trouble passing for another guest.

Yet, as bad luck would have it, right before the doors, Chloé realized to her horror that there was a reason the sound of the arriving elevator rang before she pressed the button to call it. Not wasting a second, she ran for the stairs, hoping that she could flee before the new arrival will see her.

Praise the beauty trends, she succeeded, and, catching her breath (heavy due to her being unused to running down the stairs), Chloé went on proudly, completely unaware that these escapades haven’t been a secret for both her father and the hotel workers in quite a while now.

***

If the hardest part for Chloé was slipping away unnoticed, then riding the subway was the most unpleasant. My, as little as a couple of years ago, she couldn’t even imagine there were so many people in Paris! At least by now, Mademoiselle Bourgeois had learned to tolerate the stampede and not to shout to the whole train that someone needed to change their cheap perfume to something less vomit-inducing.

Once her heroic survival of the traveling hardships was over, she exited the subway in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Chloé had the habit of visiting a new place every time, which is why she had long since ran through all the clubs at the city center, and now it was the turn of smaller establishments on the outskirts. Strangely enough, the latter were a lot more attractive, and her current destination was a club-restaurant named ‘Plum Branch’.

***

The two-story building, completely unremarkable from the outside, turned out to be most remarkable on the inside. The interior was decorated in Chinese fashion, but any critic would have torn the designer apart for the disco lights making it hard to tell that there were cranes painted on one wall and chrysanthemums on the one nest to it. The critic would be blind to the fact that a brain, drunk on the alcohol and the loud music, will paint its own pictures of the surroundings, making chrysanthemums into tigers and cranes into a dragon. Even though the interior of a single room in the Bourgeois hotel cost more than that of this entire club, ‘Plum Branch’ had captivated Chloé at once with its exotic feel. Even the music was unlike anywhere else; instead of the modern club hits, they were playing something forgotten mixed with something oriental.

The first floor of the ‘Plum Branch’ was divided into three sectors (not counting office space); a long bar counter by the entrance (the girl smiled at how worn the leather seats at it were); a few steps further, one would find themselves at a roomy dance floor, which ended where the restaurant tables started.

Having walked around the dancefloor and squeezed between the closely set tables, the girl approached the narrow stairs leading to the second level. As she was told by one young woman met in the previous club, the second floor of ‘Plum Branch’ was something of a VIP-zone, and there was only one way to get access; showing the guard a large bill. But, if she was to be believed, the service was top rate. Well, Mademoiselle Bourgeois couldn’t wait to check whether that woman spoke the truth.

The first paragraph was proven true; Chloé was let in and even escorted to a small table, surrounded by sofas and separated from the rest by a patterned screen. From her spot, one could see almost the entire restaurant section and dancefloor of the first level, the second floor taking only part of the area and located above the kitchen and office space. Well, all the better; Bourgeois could continue her favorite game of ‘Compare the Establishments’

Some clubs in the city center demanded payment for VIP-zone access; here she was let in for free, as soon as they were sure she could pay. An interesting approach, even if not a directly profitable one. Someday, Chloé will open her own establishment, and shall adopt this method. She wanted to own a place with an atmosphere, one accessible to the sectors of the public, and as for the money…

Let Father’s hotel bring the money.

“Would you like to place an order?” an Oriental looking waitress, who just approached her table, shouted over the loud music.

“The best dish you’ve got,” Bourgeois didn’t even raise her voice; another one of her games. How will they ask again this time? Will they request her to point at the menu, or to write the order down?

“All our dishes are good,” the Asian smiled at her. “May I recommend a duck with plums? I promise, you won’t find such a marvelous plum sauce in all of Paris!”

Chloé barely held her self-control mask in place; in this noise, the only way to understand what she said was by reading lips. What kind of idiot called this place a run-down club? True, the cheap decorations and shabby furniture made it hard to compete for the ‘best establishment of the city’ title, but the atmosphere was certainly an unusual one.

And so were the personnel.

***

“Emilie!..” the almost sobbing girl rushed into the changing room and threw herself at the brunette who barely had the time to button up her uniform. “Where’ve you been all week?”

“First,” Only with the greatest effort did Marinette manage to push away her overly emotional colleague, May, “nor Emilie, Emma…”

“Emilie fits you better,” May interrupted her with a sniffle.

“Second, I was sick,” Marinette continued, putting the apron on. Damn, why was she constantly being told that her favorite name doesn’t fit her. “And now tell me, what’s wrong?”

‘Plum Branch’ had about two dozen waitresses working in various shifts, but May was the only one with whom she actually connected. She was five years younger than Marinette, juggling between the side job in the club, working in the local supermarket and studying at the university, for which she had to pay herself. May was too emotional and impressionable, was constantly complaining about being unable to confess to the boy she had a crush on, tended to stumble constantly, spilling her tray onto the customers, and constantly ended up in awkward situations. For Marinette, the girl seemed to be a reminder about her old life, while for May, Emma Lee was like an older sister, one who would always understand her and give some advice.

“That monsieur at Table Five pinched me!” May whined beggingly, fumbling with the hem of her skirt.

Marinette bit her lip. Had she not been late today, she would have been the one serving Table Five. That table was the long-time favorite of three fortyish guys, who were working nearby and spending all their salaries in ‘Plum Branch’ instead of bringing the money home. Their greatest fun was harassing waitresses. When, five years ago, the twenty years old Marinette had just started working, she was really scared of such people, and so understood May’s feelings perfectly. Well, time to repeat the words of encouragement that Marinette had once heard from Tikki.

“Such people can only be pitied,” she said, patting her younger colleague on the head. “They are so short on female attention, that they are trying to attract you by such primitive behavior. Just ignore them and keep working. You _are_ above them, right?”

May nodded uncertainly, and Marinette, with a smile, continued:

“But that doesn’t mean Emma Lee will let it slide.”

***

The plum sauce was indeed excellent, and the duck was so delightful, that Chloé was seriously considering stealing the chef for her father’s hotel.

The observation of the club continued, and Bourgeois had made a few more conclusions. For example, she noted that only the best waitresses were allowed to serve the clients upstairs. These workers could not only read lips, but also handle any whim. If anyone had a born talent of quibbling over the tiniest things, it was Chloé, but even her comments about the significant, insignificant and nonexistent shortcomings were all heard out with a patient smile.

At the same time, the waitresses serving the clients downstairs did not have the same emotional steadfastness. From her spot, Chloé had an excellent view on how some fellow had just about put his hand under some young worker’s skirt, making her almost cry as she vanished into the offices. On the one hand, she was sorry a bit for the girl, on the other… She was the one to choose this work.

Bourgeois looked over at the dance floor. The disco lights flashing in tune with the music made the eyes see everything in snapshots. Now a dancing girl has her arm bent, a second later – the arm is straight already, another one later – the girl is squatting a bit, caressing her own buttock. And such a show, with more than a few people participating, was almost putting Chloé in a trance. She could enjoy such a view for hours!

Could _have_ , had the music not been drowned by a sudden shriek.

At first, Chloé thought that another drunk client had decided to let his emotions out this way, but, turning her head toward the noise, realized that wasn’t the case.

She winced at realizing she missed the start of a fight.

One of the men who were just harassing the waitress was lying on the floor, holding his jaw.

The second one swung, trying to hit a short brunette wearing a ‘Plum Branch’ uniform, who, with a skilled dodge, kneed him in the belly.

The third one tried to grab the girl by her arm, but she grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm behind the back instead.

The guards rushed in to help, and led the violent (or rather, beaten up by the waitress) clients out, while the brunette, deciding to stretch her neck a bit, raised her head up.

As if in slow motion, Chloé Bourgeois saw a ray of light fall on the girl’s face.

“Dupain-Cheng…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
> May calling Emma Lee "Emilie" is a complete coincidence, since the fic was being written before the name of Adrien's mother became known via canon.


	10. The Uninvited Guest

Bourgeois barely held herself from jumping off the seat, grabbing the former classmate’s arm and dragging her over to Adrien by force. For seven damn years they’ve been searching for her wherever possible and impossible, while Marinette was working as a waitress like nothing was wrong? Did she ever consider that she should have returned home?

Wait, what if Chloé made a mistake? She did come here to get free of thoughts about Marinette, which wouldn’t leave her head due to Adrien’s suffering, and the general atmosphere of the club, combined with the alcohol she drank, could cause all matter of hallucinations.

But no, this was definitely no hallucination. A vision could not have taken three guys down with such skill. Chloé did use to think that Marinette couldn’t have either, unlike Ladybug. Well, now she did know who used to hide behind the mask of the heroine of Paris, so she had no doubt; Bourgeois was definitely seeing Dupain-Cheng.

Except Marinette did manage to hide from the world for seven years, and Chloé was afraid to scare the missing girl away. Should it be Bourgeois’ fault she vanishes again, Adrien will never forgive her.

Draining her unfinished Champagne glass in a gulp, Chloé tried to put herself back under control.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Now they’re going to bring her the bill, Bourgeois will pay it, and will leave quietly, without drawing attention. Good thing she thought to wear a black wig for her excursions into such establishments; that way she had a better chance of Marinette not recognizing her, unless the girls literally stumble into each other, and Chloé, remembering their school days, will give some snarky quip.

She gave herself a loud slap, followed by a mental order to get a grip.

Perhaps she should call Adrien right now? He would have rushed here at once, no matter what he’s doing now.

No, first she should figure things out herself. To learn the reason why Marinette refused to return home, as well as all that happened to her in the meantime. What if she has amnesia, a loving husband and kids, and thoughtless interference in her life will ruin everything?

Or Agreste was right, and Chloé does need to cut down on the sitcoms.

***

Thanks to her father’s connections and wallet, it wasn’t hard to make the necessary inquiries. Next morning, Chloé knew already that for at least five years, Marinette was living under the name of Emma Lee, working at ‘Plum Branch’ and renting a tiny flat not far from the club. But that wasn’t the most curious thing. The talkative girl, whom the club owner called Emma’s close friend, and whom Chloé recognized as that almost crying waitress, told her that ‘Emilie’ tended to hang out with one guy. The girl had even shown her a sneakily taken picture of the guy, almost making Bourgeois howl aloud, because there was no mistaking Nathanael Kurtzberg on it.

Chloé wasn’t sure what she wanted more; to strangle that redheaded moron with her own hands for hiding the fact that Marinette was alive, or to bang her head against the wall (now the blonde could guess who had been Nate’s companion about whom they were talking). But since attempting to kill Kurtzberg could damage Chloé’s manicure, and banging a wall with her own head could ruin the hairdo, she decided the choice can be left for later.

For now, at the moment, trembling from either fury or impatience, or maybe anticipation of facing her best frenemy, whose fan she used to be seven years ago, Chloé was standing in front of Marinette’s door, afraid to knock.

While Bourgeois did visit the clubs while disguised, now she had her regular appearance. And it would have been fine, had the face of the mayor’s daughter, who had also starred in a couple of TV shows and a number of ads, not been familiar to the whole of Paris.

Deep in thoughts of what she would say once she’s in her missing classmate’s room, Chloé wasn’t even aware how much her mere appearance was shaking up the quiet life of the floor already. Nearly all the resident girls had rushed out of their flats and were watching the event with great interest. No wonder; the most visible member of the city elite had arrived at their God forsaken neighborhood, and was now frozen in uncertainty right in front of that quiet wallflower, Emma’s door!

With a deep sigh, Bourgeois gathered the courage to knock. Surprisingly, the building had excellent soundproofing; the girl struggled in vain to determine whether her knock had any effect. Chloé was raising her hand for a second knock, but the door opened before her knuckles could touch it.

“Why the hell didn’t you call first, Nate?” Marinette muttered, yet to open her eyes properly after sleep.

“Well, I’m not Nate,” Chloé grinned.

***

The sleepiness vanished, as if it some overpowering tornado had carried it, along with some little house, into the distant Land of Oz. The rigor which grabbed her entire body prevented Marinette from shutting the door in front of her uninvited guest, who, not wasting a second, stepped in.

“Been awhile, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé greeted in her usual haughty manner, although, had Marinette not been so shocked at her showing up, she might have noticed that Mademoiselle Bourgeois’ voice was shaking a bit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Marinette had to make an enormous effort in order to say these words with as much confidence as possible. What the hell did Chloé Bourgeois forget here? Considering she didn’t look surprised, it was obvious Chloé knew _whose_ door she was knocking at. How, where and when did Marinette make the mistake that allowed to find her? Perhaps there was still a chance her former classmate will believe she made a mistake?

“You know, I might have believed you’ve got amnesia,” crossing arms on her chest, Chloé leaned her back against the wall, “had Sabrina not seen you on Gabriel Agreste’s funeral. And had I not noticed this,” she nodded at the dartboard pic.

Alas. No point in denying things now.

Realizing her lies didn’t work out, Marinette lowered her head. Her being alive was at the very least known to Chloé and Sabrina. Perhaps they had no time to tell anyone else, and she could convince Chloé to leave things be? She must have come personally for a reason. But what could she require from one who was considered dead for seven years? Even blackmailing Marinette would be pointless now; at most, one could mock the conditions in which she lived. But would Chloé have driven all the way across the city for _that_?

Grabbing the hem of her shirt to stop her hands from trembling, Marinette whispered hesitantly:

“W-why are you here?”

“Don’t you believe it’s time to rise from the dead?” Chloé glanced over the tiny roomlet. Did Marinette actually live in such abhorrent conditions all this time? No space to turn around, much less sit down. Just Chloé’s wardrobe would have fitted this tiny flat in it several times over! Bourgeois clenched her teeth. Maybe her and Marinette didn’t exactly get along back in their schooldays, but the heroine who rid Paris of Hawk Moth deserved far better that this.

“I must not rise from the dead,” whispering again. If once, Chloé couldn’t believe Marinette was Ladybug, now the contrast was even sharper. Dupain-Cheng looked like a cornered mouse. Her head was so low that the fringe was obscuring her face. Her frail shoulders were shaking, and her left forearm was showing the white scar left by the bullet that struck it.

Marinette wasn’t like that yesterday. What the hell happened to that feisty waitress who took three guys down? Did being addressed by her real name scare Marinette so much?

But there was nothing to be scared of anymore!

“Gabriel Agreste is dead,” Chloé shifted her weight hesitantly. The pretend haughtiness was replaced with genuine worry, one she still tried to hide clumsily. “He cannot harm you anymore.”

Marinette looked at Chloé in fear. The question was obvious in her expanded pupils: ‘How does she know?’

The mayor’s daughter gave herself a mental slap on the forehead. She didn’t want to reveal knowing who used to wear Ladybug’s mask; too many questions it could raise. Yet Chloé had no idea how to explain knowing that information without revealing Adrien’s secret. She believed Agreste and Marinette need to figure out the identity deal on their own. Her only duty was bringing the former classmate back.

“A suicide note,” the answer came on its own. “Before putting the gun in his mouth, Gabriel decided to make a confession.”

Chloé thought the words might calm Marinette down. Her enemy did admit himself that he had sicced the bandits on her, which meant there shouldn’t be any trouble. At the very least, it would make a reopened investigation easier, and allow her to avoid responsibility for living with a fake ID.

And yet, the effect of her words was the exact opposite.

Marinette bit her lips, hugged herself and sank onto the bed. Whining, she was rocking back and forth, as if the motion could calm her down somehow.

What could be so bad about Gabriel confessing to his deeds?

Bourgeois, afraid to ruin things even further, gulped nervously. No, this wasn’t at all how she intended to bring her back to Adrien.

“How much did he write?” Marinette was looking at Chloé with both despair and hope. Bourgeois realized her answer would determine whether she’ll calm down or start panicking again.

“I don’t know,” Chloé lied, but seeing Marinette bow her head again, shot out: “Hardly anything!”

God, why didn’t she get a psychology degree? Chloé had not the slightest idea how to act now with Marinette. Yesterday, she seemed brave, spirited, ready to stand up against any injustice. Just like before, when she didn’t care what she was facing; another akuma, or Bourgeois’ own antics. Which is why, having come over, Chloé at first tried to pretend these seven years never existed. Who could have known the past had left _such_ a deep mark in the former heroine’s soul? Who knew Chloé showing up will aggravate the old wounds?

Damn it, never before was Mademoiselle Bourgeois so sorry for acting without thinking!

“Do-does Adrien know?” that question was spoken so quietly, that Chloé struggled to make it out.

A few minutes passed before she gathered the courage to speak an equally quiet ‘Yes’.

***

That single syllable shattered Marinette’s fragile world. All these accursed seven years, akuma damn them, she suffered the existence of Emma Lee for a single purpose; that Adrien Agreste never learns of his father’s deeds. And now? All that in vain? Her sacrifice meaningless, because Gabriel Agreste couldn’t stand the pangs of his conscience and blew his brains out? Would it have been so hard, taking that secret to the grave?

Marinette howled, grabbing at her hair.

And if he decided to make his suicide note a confession, doesn’t that mean he shot himself out of the weight of his sins?

“His death is my fault,” the former heroine squeaked in despair.

Cursing, Bourgeois sat down on the bed next to Marinette and hugged her as tenderly as her own mother used to hug her.

“What nonsense are you talking?” Chloé asked, patting her on the back caringly. “Nothing is your fault.”

Marinette shook her head in denial. Had she not removed her mask in front of Gabriel back then, he would have had no one to take vengeance upon. He would not have sicced the murderers upon her and would not have blamed himself for her death. Some part of her mind did understand the absurdity of these thoughts, but logic does tend to sleep while under the reign of emotion.

“I’m ti-tired,” Marinette laid her head on Chloé’s shoulder. The tears she held back for the past years started flowing out of her eyes. “Wh-why does th-this always happen to me?”

“Hush, Marinette, calm down,” Bourgeois was caressing her hair gently. She wondered; would her finding Dupain-Cheng be enough for Adrien to forgive her reducing Ladybug to tears?

“What did I do wr-wrong?” that question bothered Marinette since the moment she woke up six years ago, but was being voiced for the first time now. “I simply wanted a quiet life! What for? Why me? Why, God damn it, me?!”

Oh, how Chloé wished to know the answer. Marinette, while bearing stoically all of the mayor’s daughter’s abuse, kept saving her from akumas without asking for a thing in return. Under Ladybug’s mask, she had selflessly defended Paris without a single complaint about anything. Dupain-Cheng rid the city from a villain, and in return, got seven bullets, a ticket from a bridge into Seine, and life-long scars, both on her body and her soul. Who was that sadist, who gave her that cruel fate when he slipped her these Miraculous earrings? Manicure be damned, Bourgeois will claw his face open for what her former classmate and idol had to go through!

“Why couldn’t things be just left as they are?” Marinette’s voice alternated between rising to a squeak and descending into hoarseness. “I didn’t bother anyone, did no evil to anyone… I even did my best not to draw attention! Is it such a wild dream – living in peace and quiet, dying a natural death?”

“You’re too young to think of death,” Bourgeois grabbed Marinette’s face, forcing the girl to look into her eyes. “Listen, we need you alive.”

“Wh-who?”

“Adr… Your parents!” Chloé was about to say ‘Adrien’, but wasn’t sure how she’ll react to the name. After all, his father was the one to blame for Marinette’s troubles. “Your friends. Me.”

“You’ve always hated me…” Marinette mumbled skeptically.

“We used to be best frenemies, that’s not quite the same,” Bourgeois retorted. Even without having learned that her classmate was the heroine of Paris, she would have been happy to have her back. Even if they didn’t get along back then, at Marinette’s fake funeral, Chloé felt a horrible emptiness within. Squabbling with the classmate was an integral part of her life, and it was intolerable to, one day, realize that Dupain-Cheng won’t ever be able to retort again. Because she won’t be able to do anything at all.

“I can’t go back,” Marinette shook her head. “I’m afraid to.”

“But of what?” Chloé was about to break into tears herself. Mascara be damned; her heroine, her childhood idol isn’t supposed to feel like that! She deserves more, better!

“Everyone believes I am dead,” the former heroine, on the other side, started calming down; the violent sobs calmed down, only the occasional sniffle remaining.

“And everyone will be definitely happy it is not so,” Chloé was hoping that her words sounded convincing, since she genuinely believed that. She did, because she was happy herself when, five years ago, she heard from Adrien that Dupain-Cheng might have survived.

“But it will mean,” Marinette was about to start whispering again, “that I was deceiving them.”

“They’ll understand. I did.”

“They won’t hate me?” a barely discernible spark of hope ignited in her tear-filled eyes.

“Of course not,” Chloé answered with a shaky smile. “If _I_ am telling you that, then you have to believe me.”

For a moment, Marinette’s face showed a desire to trust Chloé, but it vanished at once, fear taking its place once more.

“No,” she shook her head again. “I cannot. It is stronger than me.”

“There is nothing I can do to convince you?” Bourgeois put her hands in her pockets and looked over at the window in thought.

“There isn’t,” Marinette wiped the tears off her face. Was there a chance the blonde will leave her in peace? Maybe her being alive will remain a secret after all? “Chloé, please, promise me you won’t tell anyone what you know of me.”

“Do you even realize how stupid it is?” the mayor’s daughter sighed.

Marinette nodded. She understood perfectly; Tikki, Nooroo and Nate kept hammering it into her head. But the fear to look into the eyes of the people she forced to consider her dead was stronger. Even if Chloé kept saying everything will be fine, could she guarantee that? Irrational fears are always stronger that regular ones. Marinette was too afraid to see reproach in her mother’s or father’s eyes. No, it’s better to stay dead.

“In this case,” clapping the brunette on the shoulder, Bourgeois stood up, “I give up. His turn now,” she said, pointing at the window. Slowly, afraid to see whomever Chloé was talking about, Marinette turned toward the window.

For the first time in seven years, her years met an emerald-green stare.

Chat Noir was sitting on her windowsill.


	11. Envy and cooperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translator's note: True, I can tell some of you were expecting a reunion chapter. Sorry, but I couldn't just leave this one out.

One of the butterflies had reacted to Marinette’s emotional shift, flying at once to its master. The unusual insect, spawned by the magic of a Miraculous Stone, was capable of phasing through objects and achieving immense speeds, allowing the winged being to get to the other side of Paris in minutes.

Nathaniel Kurtzberg was fast asleep at the moment, having spent all night transformed into Hawk Moth, trying to find any lead that could spill the light onto the identity of the one responsible for the factory shooting. Alas, his network of lepidoptera spies had failed to find any noteworthy information. Yes, looking into people’s hearts, Nathaniel could determine what they felt, whether they lied or told the truth. However, this was of little use in the current situation; what exactly it was they lied about, was beyond the butterflies’ ability to determine, since they couldn’t read thoughts, and as for every other Chinese whom Hawk Moth had the time to scan being angry – that required no kwami magic to see.

The first one to notice the moth’s arrival was Nooroo. The little being, having forced his eyes open, stretched unhurriedly, and then flew atop a certain red head’s top, starting to pull at his owner’s hair.

“Wake up,” the kwami squeaked to absolutely no reaction. Then Nooroo said as loudly as possible: “A butterfly came from Marinette.”

Nathaniel shot up at once, looking at his purple friend in worry.

“What happened?” he asked. “Is she okay?”

“You know,” the kwami mumbled guiltily, “that with you detransformed I only get limited information from the butterflies. I can only say she’s really anxious.”

Nathaniel knew it perfectly, so he wasted no time transforming. The swarm of white butterflies, napping on the numerous portraits of Marinette Dupain-Cheng, wrapped around the redhead at once, clothing him in the hero’s costume. Hawk Moth waved his hand and tapped the cane on the floor, sending the white-winged butterfly back into Emma Lee’s home.

Except now, he could watch the world through its eyes.

***

Upon seeing Chloé Bourgeois in Marinette’s room, Kurtzberg didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, he wanted to take off and hurry there, afraid that without him, the situation will come to no good. To his surprise, he felt Chloé radiating a genuine desire to return Dupain-Cheng home, but at the same time, he knew how stubborn Marinette could be on the subject. On the other hand, he had to detransform before getting out of the house, meaning he would not be able to keep track of the events in his friend’s flat. What if, while on the way, Nate will miss something important?

Still, continuing to sit on his bed like that, he won’t be able to help.

Canceling his transformation, Nathaniel pulled his jeans on in a hurry, put on the shirt and the jacket (the latter twice, since he put it on inside out the first time), grabbed his bag (already occupied by Nooroo) and rushed out.

Kurtzberg wasn’t sure what he was sorry about more – the subway travel not being supersonic, or him not daring to use public transport while transformed and thus keep watching Marinette through the butterfly’s eyes. Probably though, at the moment he hated Gabriel Agreste, who had tainted Hawk Moth’s name for the Parisians by making it synonymous with absolute evil, forcing the current lord of the moths into shadows. He’s a hero, damn it, yet anyone would have recognized him as a villain at once upon seeing his powers.

Nathaniel bit his lip. This was not the time to angst over not getting the Miraculous Stone he could have dreamed about. Thanks to its power he was the first to find Marinette, and could guard her, watch her… no, watch _after_ her. Which is why he had to get to her home as soon as possible, before she shoved Chloé out of the door, packed her things and left for the other side of France if not the planet to hide from everyone. Kurtzberg knew; she totally could, and his butterflies were not omnipotent. It was unlikely they’ll be able to track her down in New Zealand.

Nate was glad Chloé was fully determined to bring Marinette home, but he was worried about Bourgeois feeling neither surprise nor shock from learning she was alive. Had Chloé known Marinette didn’t die seven years ago?

Unfortunately, he only managed to overhear a small part of the conversation, so there were insufficient facts for conclusions.

Again, that problem with information.

Kurtzberg was feeling useless; because of his flawed Miraculous, he still couldn’t do as Marinette asked, to find Liu Jin and the ones responsible for the factory shooting and stealing the package. Meanwhile, Chat Noir had no trouble with his Ring of Misfortune. Damn him to hell, this long-tailed favorite of all Paris, who didn’t do a thing to earn his glory.

God, it was Ladybug who defeated the previous Hawk Moth, Ladybug who purified the akumas, while Chat Noir kept falling under enemy control. Nathaniel would have never allowed such a thing in his place! Then how come Marinette kept recalling her former partner with such yearning?

Nooroo started thumping inside his bag.

Nathaniel took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He had to calm down.

Again, damn it, he almost allowed envy to take over him. He really needed to get rid of that habit of comparing himself to Chat Noir; after all, both Nooroo and Tikki insisted that it was envy that prevented the Moth Brooch from being cleansed of the former owner’s negativity. In order for the Miraculous Stone to become a hero’s talisman again, Kurtzberg himself had to become a hero in his heart. Should he give in to his lowly impulses, the brooch will be once again tainted by another villain.

***

Nathaniel ran from the stairs onto the fifth floor right as Chloé Bourgeois was exiting Marinette’s little flat.

The curious floormates, who never left all that time, were now savoring the show of Emma-Lee’s-redheaded-sort-of-boyfriend and famous-actress-slash-mayor’s-daughter staring each other down.

“Kurtzberg, what a pleasant surprise,” Mademoiselle Burgeois spoke first, remembering well how she intended to strangle that scoundrel. “Did you come to visit your former classmate?”

“I could ask you the same question, Chloé,” even though Nathaniel was running here hoping to help her, now he went all defensive. “I don’t remember you two having been friends.”

“And I don’t remember you being such an egotistical scum,” she spat out.

“It was always your part,” the redhead parried.

“Why the hell, akuma damn you, did you hide her from everyone all this time?!” the furious blonde shot out, making the witnesses of the dialogue gasp.

“Let’s speak elsewhere,” Nathaniel gave up. This was no talk for a stranger’s ears.

***

The former classmates have found a spot in a nearby fast food joint. Sitting behind a small table facing each other, they didn’t dare to speak for a while.

Chloé struggled with everything she had to hold in the fury burning inside her and not pounce, screaming and pummeling, on the one who knew the truth about Marinette for so many years, yet did nothing to get her back. Adrien was in so much pain without Ladybug, while this redheaded moron spent all this time enjoying her company! Chloé, in his place, would have simply tied Marinette up and carried her to her parents!

Well… to Agreste, more likely.

Nathaniel, meanwhile, was trying to gather his thoughts, not knowing where to start the conversation.

He didn’t want to fight with Chloé anymore, given they had a common cause – bringing Marinette home. Even without his butterflies, Kurtzberg could feel the blonde sending all kinds of curses in his direction, and felt he needed to justify his actions to her. After all, he had been hiding Marinette being alive for her own safety, and out of fear that she will run away again.

Definitely not due to him being greedy and refusing to share his first love with anyone, especially anyone with a tail. He had even dragged her to Gabriel Agreste’s funeral, hoping that Marinette will decide to return home!

“Did she agree to return?” hesitantly, Nathaniel asked the question bothering him.

“I don’t know,” Chloé grumbled, stirring her milkshake with a straw. Her anger had vanished as soon as she heard the hope in Kurtzberg’s voice. “She’s with… Adrien now.”

“Not the best candidate,” Nate sighed.

“Because of his heritage?” Bourgeois was probing the ground with caution. How much did Kurtzberg knew about the circumstances of the bridge shooting? Did he know that Gabriel Agreste was the one to send the hitmen, or was he talking like that out of jealousy? After all, everyone in collège knew the redhead loved Dupain-Cheng, while she was crushing on Adrien.

“Because of that,” Nathaniel confirmed. “Does Agreste know what his father did?”

“He confessed to everything in his suicide note,” the blonde sighed. “Why didn’t you convince her to return?”

“She was afraid of another attempt,” the guy lowered the head onto his intertwined fingers.

“And after the funeral?”

“Same reason as you,” he grinned. “Marinette is too stubborn.”

“Unlike me, you were by her side for years,” Chloé parried. “You could have worked on it gradually. Or at least hint to someone that she was alive. I did ask you at the funeral whom you brought along!”

Nate was silent. Bourgeois was right, and he couldn’t deny it.  
  
“Nothing to say,” the girl gave the guy a look full of contempt. “I was about to think you wanted to help getting her back.”

“I did,” Kurtzberg whispered. “I do.”

“Don’t lie,” Chloé snarled. “Had you wanted to, you would have. A long time ago.”

“She threatened to run away from me too!” Nathaniel cried desperately and banged his fist on the table. The strike made his lemonade cup fall, the contents starting to leak onto the table, making a slowly spreading pool. Neither Nate nor Chloé paid any attention.

They were too busy trying to incinerate each other with their stares.

“Pitiful excuses,” the mayor’s daughter hissed through her teeth.

Kurtzberg was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring from rage. He knew he was giving in to negative emotions, he was seeing Nooroo peeking out of his bag in fear, yet he couldn’t help it. What does this Bourgeois, damn it, know about him, to make this kind of conclusions?! Marinette was his first love, Nathaniel only wanted her to be happy. Chloé couldn’t even imagine how many times he suggested she should return to her family, and how many refusals he heard out in return. And how many times did Marinette shove him out of her door, threatening to change her name and address again? Being _the only one_ who knew she was still alive, Nate simply couldn’t lose her!

That’s why he was constantly looking after her, gave up before her threats of vanishing again, and never revealed her secret to anyone.

“Not true,” he answered to Chloé and the part of his mind that agreed with Mademoiselle Bourgeois.

The part that kept screaming; these truly were nothing but excuses.

After all, it was so nice to realize that no one but him was _that_ close to Marinette. He was the only one in the world (not counting Tikki and Nooroo) to know all her secret. He was the only human who could call her by her real name (even if to her displeasure), could dial up her phone number at any hour of day and night in order to hear her, even if disgruntled, so beloved voice. Only Nathaniel was allowed to be by her side. Kurtzberg took up a _special_ place, was part of her new life.

And if he had told everything? Had he returned Marinette to her parents and friends?

Would everything have been back the way it had been seven years ago? Would Nathaniel, once again, only be able to watch his muse from afar, paint portraits of her, and secretly dream of once again falling under a villain’s power, because that was the only thing that could give him the courage to ask her out on a date?! Had Marinette returned home, Nate’s place in her daily life would have instantly been taken by Alya, and had she returned to her Ladybug duties, she certainly would have preferred Chat Noir’s company to that of the redheaded Hawk Moth.

After all, Nate knew her heart perfectly well.

To deliver Ladybug into the paws of that feline who couldn’t protect her? No, he would rather console his conscience with the a priori unsuccessful attempts to convince her and have the undivided pleasure of her company.

“Goddamned egoist,” for some reason, Chloé was speaking exactly like his nearly asleep conscience. “Aren’t you frustrated yourself at this kind of hypocrisy? “

“You accuse me of egoism?” the redhead raised his left eyebrow in surprise. “Need I remind you who was poisoning the life of the entire collège? You could get the whole of Paris in a twist because of a broken nail! And you definitely didn’t act friendly toward Marinette. What changed, exactly, that you want her back so much?”

“I grew up,” was Bourgeois’ utterly calm answer. “While you behave like a little kid who refuses to share his favorite toy.”

“Marinette’s no toy!”

“That’s what I’m saying.” The blonde shook her head. “At first, I even believed you wanted to make her happy. But it appears the only happiness you want is your own.”

Kurtzberg closed his eyes. Yes, Chloé was very good at causing pain with nothing but her words. What she spoke was like incredibly sharp snake fangs; piercing his body and spreading through his mind like poison. But worst of all, Bourgeois was speaking the truth now. And the vestiges of conscience which she managed to wake up, were now raising a rebellion in Nathaniel’s soul, calling for him to submit and finally make up for his silence through deeds.

Even if he could never fully strangle the envy he felt toward Chat Noir, Nate would at least be certain he had done everything for the sake of the one he loved for so long.

***

Chloé was surprised at how sharply Nathaniel’s mood shifted. She did, of course, realize she had touched a sore spot. Moreover, she was deliberately reaching out to his conscience, bringing out feelings of guilt over his inaction. But Bourgeois could have never expected it to awaken a desire to make up for his mistakes.

Well, even better that way. Now Kurtzberg was definitely inclined to help Marinette return to her family, and that meant the success of the mission just grew exponentially. After all, he had spent years by her side, and knew the _current_ Marinette better than anyone, that girl who feared everything that had to do with her old life. He knew what words one could speak in her presence, what to avoid. Damn, had Chloé come to Nate before visiting her, she could have avoided her tears! She wouldn’t have had to blame herself for making the heroine of Paris herself cry.

While her and Nathaniel were discussing the subtleties of communicating with Marinette and stopping her from walking off the path back home, Bourgeois didn’t dare to touch one very important subject. It was perfectly obvious to her that Nate still had as big a crush on Marinette as during their collège days. But what of Dupain-Cheng herself?

“Are you two… well… a couple?” the blonde asked. For several years she was seeing how terribly Adrien was suffering without his Lady, believing that his torture will end once Marinette is back (after all, it was hard not to notice Dupain-Cheng having been in love with Agreste), but never considered the possibility of matters being different. Except for the amnesia theory, that is. Yet now, there was a significant chance that Nathaniel, having been the only person close to Marinette, got her to reciprocate.

“Alas,” Kurtzberg said bitterly. “I have learned the full joys of the friendzone.”

“Yeah, you and I are in the same boat,” Bourgeois laughed. The alarm was a false one. Nate was no competitor for Marinette’s heart, if all these years weren’t enough for him to conquer it. She just needed to hope Chat Noir won’t miss his chance. After all, even though Chloé still liked Adrien, she knew he could only be happy with his Lady.

“Don’t tell me Agreste…” Nathaniel would have never expected such a twist.

“Is in love with Marinette,” Chloé finished the phrase. “Afraid so. Which is why I hope you won’t interfere in their relationship.”

“No need to worry about that,” the redhead answered with a strained smile before adding in a barely audible voice: “Better him that Chat Noir.”

***

Once Chloé took matters into her own hands, she always succeeded. She decided to find Marinette on her own – not a week later, and Dupain-Cheng was found. All that was left now, was burning down every single bridge that could give the former heroine a way out of returning home. And with the information provided by Nathaniel, along with father’s money and connections, that was a piece of cake.

Which is why, once out of the joint, the girl, followed by a redheaded companion, headed straight into ‘Plum Branch’ to do what she was best at since school; get people fired. She didn’t even have to throw a tantrum – the promise that Emma Lee won’t demand any holiday nor severance pay, along with the guarantee that he won’t have to pay the waitress for the days she had already worked this month, were enough for the task. Monsieur Feng stated firmly that Emma Lee doesn’t need to come to work anymore, and then put the wad of cash received from the blonde in his breast pocket.

The man didn’t even ask about any details. Why would he, when the money given by the strange girl and saved by not paying Emma was enough to hire five more waitresses and pay them for a year?

“Fired from her job, now we just need to evict her out of the apartment,” the mayor’s daughter smiled. She will do everything in her power to provide solid support for Agreste, and deny Marinette the chance to live another’s life. Let Chat handle love matters without her. “Follow me Sabri… eh, Nate!”

 


	12. Eye to Eye

“SOS!”

That’s what Chloé’s message said, sent through the emergency call function, no less.

Having received it, Adrien transformed into Chat Noir at once, and raced across Paris to save, as he believed, his childhood friend.

Chat would have never expected for the signal to lead him to _her_. To the one he was searching for over the past seven years. To the one dreaming of whom was his life. To the one who meant more for him than the entire world.

Her beautiful blue eyes, to which he had dedicated so many poems, were now full of open fear and surprise, looking at the one who had covered her back so many times seven years ago.

A dream!

She is here, right before him; alive and well. Not confined to a wheelchair, not hooked to life support, not bound hand and foot by some piece of scum.

Too good to be true.

Could Adrien have had another attack, making him take too many sedatives? What if it’s a side effect of the pills? For seven years he craved seeing her again, craved so strongly it was hard to believe this was real.

There was but one step separating them. To jump off the windowsill, to reach with his hand – and Chat could touch his Lady.

Or could he?

What if she’s but an illusion, and will shatter into pieces at the slightest touch? Should that happen, the heart of the hero of Paris will shatter into a million pieces alongside it.

Noir could only look at her – eye to eye – and hope that this moment never ends. Only Marinette existed for him right now, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Chat didn’t even notice Chloé, whose call made him come here, walking out, leaving him alone with his newfound beloved.

Chat didn’t dare to say anything, afraid to scare away his sudden luck. Marinette was silent as well, just plain _afraid_.

Fear of her life changing again was obvious in her eyes. Red from tears, but still so alluring, so dear, so beloved… God, what a fool Noir had been, never noticing these eyes without a red mask framing them.

For the first time, he was seeing Marinette without her pigtails. Chat knew that any haircut fit his Lady. Even now, with her hair a mess from sleep (and Chloé), she was the most beautiful girl in the world to him.

Simply because it was _her_.

No, he was too greedy.

Just looking at her wasn’t enough.

For seven long years, he could do nothing but look; at her photos, at videos, in his dreams. Noir needed proof that Marinette wasn’t a hallucination, a vision, a ghost of herself. True, in the silence of this tiny flat he could hear her breath.

But it wasn’t enough.

Adrien had already had hallucinations; both visual and auditory. Another one – this realistic – he simply won’t survive. He must make sure she’s real. If she is – oh, gods, this will be the best day of his life. If not – well, one less Cat in the world. He won’t be able to live with the disappointment.

“Marinette,” Chat Noir whispered with desperate hope, making a step forward.

“Marinette,” he repeated a bit louder, touching her tearstained cheek with his gloved hand.

“Marinette!!!” a joyful scream burst out of his chest as he embraced her tightly. Chat could sense her warmth, hear the beating of her heart, feel her breath. “You’re alive, My Lady!” Tears of joy were obscuring Noir’s vision. “You’re alive, Marinette… I’m so glad you’re alive…”

Yes, Plagg had told him thousands of times that Ladybug was alive, since Tikki didn’t change her owner. But there was never any proof other than the black kwami’s word. Yes, Adrien trusted his little friend and partner completely, but he kept asking himself; what if Plagg was wrong? Him and the whole of Paris did see the recording of seven bullets piercing Marinette’s body.

But she lived. She succeeded. His Lady had survived, healed, recovered!

There was a reason Noir always admired her.

She’s here, right next to him! Chat will never let her go.

“Marinette,” he couldn’t stop repeating her name “Marinette! Marinette…”

His Lady didn’t grow at all over these seven years, while Chat himself had shot up significantly. He used to be taller than her already, but now she looked so small and frail to him, that Noir was afraid to break her with a careless touch.

But he was afraid to let her go even more, and so he was hugging her tightly and lovingly, tenderly and carefully, and no force in existence could have made him release his embrace.

The tears of joy were pouring in a stream too strong for Chat to see anything. But it was enough for him to feel what he did; her sweet scent, the warmth of her body, the silkiness of her hair under the cheek pressed against the top of his beloved’s head.

After seven years…

He finally found her.

“Ma-Mar-Marinette…” Noir couldn’t speak clearly because of the tears, yet he kept repeating it, as if afraid that should he fall silent – his beloved will vanish from his life again.

“M-my Lad-dy,” there wasn’t a minute in these seven years that he didn’t dream of her returning. The dream came true, and it was so beautiful, that Noir won’t ask for anything anymore, so long as she is not taken away again.

“I m-miss-ssed you s-so mu-much,” Without her, Chat wasn’t living; merely existing, pretending to be alive. Noir was rubbing his cheek against her hair, messing it up even more, and she was breathing against his chest. Chat kept repeating her name again and again, adding a phrase or two from time to time.

“I missed you too, Noir,” she whispered, linking her arms behind his back.

***

Marinette couldn’t tell how long they stood there, embracing. Noir wasn’t sobbing anymore, but he was still sniffling and had absolutely no intention to let her go.

Well, not like she wanted to break out herself.

In his strong arms, Marinette was feeling safe. Even back then, seven years, she trusted him with her life. More than once, Noir had shielded her from enemy strikes with his own body. Now that Chat grew up and matured, she felt utterly safe. Noir won’t hurt her and won’t allow anyone else to.

And Ladybug had left his life so cruelly, without saying a thing.

Leaving her Kitten in the dark, forcing him to worry, suffer.

She did know he loved her, yet didn’t even warn him about intending to vanish.

True, when she had gone to blackmail Gabriel Agreste, Ladybug didn’t tell her partner anything, in order to keep her foe’s identity secret. But what was stopping her from meeting Chat Noir _after_ she took the brooch away? She had a whole month before the bridge shooting to tell her loyal friend that the enemy is defeated and she’s fine.

Yet she decided to leave without a farewell. English style, even though she was French.

What was Chat thinking when his Lady had vanished suddenly? He must have been lost, looking for her all over Paris, worrying, anxious, upset. Damn it, he even managed to learn her identity!

And was so genuinely happy he managed to find her.

No. No, this wasn’t at all how Marinette imagined their reunion.

No puns, no smile, no jokes – only tears, hugs and the trembling which was shaking his shoulders.

Marinette thought Chat will behave as if they had only seen each other yesterday, like there were no seven years in the meantime.

But there were.

These seven years had left an indelible mark not only on Marinette’s soul. Chat was suffering all that time as well. Suffering without her, _because_ of her, because of her cruelty and egoism.

Marinette feared to return, thought that she will be condemned or reproached for hiding she managed to survive. She was hoping that time had healed the wounds of everyone who loved her, that they managed to forget everything and came to terms with her death.

How wrong she was!

Chat, whose kwami would have felt Ladybug was alive, was so anxious because of her, that Marinette had felt sorry a thousand times already for not revealing her secret at least to him.

“Forgive me, Kitty.”

***

Forgive? What for?

Noir pulled away reluctantly, if only to look into her eyes and make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him.

But no. The guilt was obvious in Marinette’s eyes.

“My Lady,” alas, the words got stuck in his throat, and Chat could say nothing but the appellation.

She had nothing to blame herself for. Anyone but her!

It wasn’t her, damn him, father who had been the main villain of Paris. It wasn’t her father who hired the assassins. He wasn’t the one who was shot like a rabid dog and fell into Seine. She wasn’t the one who failed to protect him.

Then why the hell was she apologizing?

Noir should be the one standing on his knees, begging for forgiveness, for a chance to at least be next to her, look at her, protect her.

“Forgive me,” Marinette repeated, brushing her fingertips against the hero’s cheek.

That touch made Noir lose his mind, forcing him to jerk his head, place his lips on her fingers, and leave a light kiss there.

Marinette didn’t snatch her hand away. With a warm smile, she flicked her Kitty on the nose and reached for his hair. At the feeling of his beloved stroking his hair, Noir felt unbelievable pleasure. Were he a real Cat, he would have been purring loudly at the sensations he could have never dreamed of!

“My Lady, what are you apologizing for?” at last, the hero’s mouth obeyed him. At his love’s side, he was feeling true calm and happiness, which he had so sorely lacked for seven long years.

“For disappearing without telling you anything,” Dupain-Cheng sighed. “And making you worry.”

“Marinette, you being alive,” Noir caught the hand caressing him and kissed the back of the palm, “is what matters. Please, forgive me for failing to protect you. I didn’t…”

“Let’s not talk about this,” she pressed her finger against Chat’s lips to make him stop. All of Marinette’s troubles were caused by her own stubbornness, Noir wasn’t to blame, yet she could tell there was no winning this argument right now. Better change the subject. “Thanks for watching after Paris in my absence. I’ve been following you on Chatblog.”

Oh, how much joy her words brought to the hero of Paris’s eyes! Noir was glowing with happiness and pride. For the first time in a long while, his lips curved in a wide feline grin; his Lady didn’t forget her Chat, she was looking after him, even if through a screen.

“ _Meow_ I consider you my fan?” for the first time in seven accursed years Noir wasn’t pretending when punning. He was alive again, his spirit and the ability to enjoy life coming back.

“You won’t believe it,” Marinette grinned back, “But I did miss your cat puns as well. But!” she continued before Chat could say anything in return. “Do try not to overdo them and make me sorry about my words.”

“Afraid of an overdose?” the hero winked, making his Lady roll her eyes in a familiar gesture. For a moment, it even seemed to Chat that everything will be as before. He found Marinette, she will return to her family, and the invincible duo will once again stand watch over Paris. They will be bumping fists after every victory, patrol the city at nights, and then…

And then Noir’s eyes fell on the perforated photo of Gabriel Agreste.

Nothing will be as before anymore.

Yeah, walking on clouds from finally meeting the love of his life, Chat even managed to forget it was his father who made Marinette suffer. The moment Ladybug will learn _who_ was hiding behind her partner’s mask all this time, she will definitely refuse to have anything to do with him. After all, it was the desire to protect Adrien Agreste that made her go through all this hell.

Marinette, surprised at the sudden change in her partner’s mood (the glowing joy of a minute ago was suddenly replaced with sadness again) turned to follow his gaze and understood the cause at once.

“Chloé said that in his suicide note, he confessed to what he did… to me,” she sighed.

Noir nodded, and just stood there, his head low. He was ashamed to look into his Lady’s eyes.

“Was that where you learned,” Marinette stumbled for a second; after all, it was terribly unusual for her to say the words, “that I’m Ladybug?”

Chat shook his head:

“Earlier,” he whispered. “But then I didn’t know he was the one to…”

“I see,” she bit her lip. Marinette felt uneasy at Noir looking drained again. She wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what words could cheer up her partner again. Yet she couldn’t keep quiet either. “Is something wrong?”

“My Lady,” a weak smile appeared on his face, “I found you after seven long years. What could possibly be wrong?”

“That’s what I would like to know,” if at the moment of their reunion, Marinette’s eyes were showing fear, now it was replaced with steadfast determination. “If the reason is what he did,” she nodded at the dartboard, “then please, throw away all the bad thoughts. I’m alive, he’s dead, nothing is threatening me anymore. It’s all good.”

“Will you be coming home?” Chat looked at her beggingly and hopefully. True, being the son of her worst foe, Adrien couldn’t hope for her to reciprocate his feelings. But at least he could return her to the family, and at least protect her from a distance. After all, without the mask, he won’t be able to be by her side.

“You d-did know I was alive, right?” Marinette hugged herself in embarrassment. “Your kwami must have felt that my earrings never changed the wearer.”

Noir nodded silently, still not understanding where his Princess was going.

“And for everyone else,” she chuckled bitterly. “I’m long expired fish food. I don’t believe I should… shock them with my resurrection.”

“Your parents know you’re alive,” Noir answered. “I promised them I’ll do anything to get you back to them.”

“You told them?!” Marinette grabbed her head in despair. “God, Chat, why?”

***

When, upon awakening after being shot, Marinette had learned a whole year had passed, and she was officially recognized as dead, it was a relatively easy decision for her, leaving things as they are. First, she was afraid that her ‘resurrection’ will mean trouble for her parents, and second, since she believed they considered her dead as well, she naïvely assumed that her relatives will soon come to terms with her death and start living on.

Chat’s story showed her how wrong she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author didn't forget about Tikki. The kwami is sitting politely in the closet so as not to bother our heroes ^_^


	13. A World Without Her

Adrien had often seen the grief-stricken Monsieur Dupain and Madame Cheng, whenever he was visiting them alongside Alya and Nino. But it wasn’t until half a year after Marinette’s fake funeral that he had first met them as Chat Noir.

“Please, avenge our daughter,” with these words, Sabine Cheng handed the hero of Paris a pink box with white polka dots.

Upon returning home, Adrien found his former classmate’s personal diary in the box. Marinette used to be his friend, and he earnestly wanted to find and bring to justice the ones who had murdered her. He didn’t hesitate for a second before turning the first page – after all, these entries might contain some leads that will help finding the guilty ones.

Yet he had never expected _this_ kind of truth.

***

Adrien threw up every time he imagined it was _his_ Lady who was so cruelly shot upon that bridge. He was suffocating as he hunched over the toilet bowl, realizing he had lived all these months in relative calm, having buried the love of his life. He did come over to her parents with the rest of his classmates, he did express his condolences, spoke words of compassion, but in reality, his thoughts were distant at the time. Yes, he had mourned Marinette’s death along with everyone, but not like he did now, once he had learned that _she_ was his beloved.

Not enough air. He was clawing his own throat open, remembering his Lady’s fall off the bridge. He was screaming, yet heard not his own screams. Plagg was trying to tell him something, but Adrien didn’t care to listen. He couldn’t; the hammering of his own heart, echoing in his ears, was drowning all other sounds out.

He was unable to protect his Lady.

He was unable to recognize her, even though she had always been right next to him.

He was unable to do anything at all! A pathetic nothing, unworthy of life. Adrien should have been the one murdered, not Marinette.

With a heartwrenching howl, out came the realization that he will never see her smile again. She will never again roll her eyes at his pun, won’t snatch her hand away from his kiss, won’t call him Silly Kitty.

Because she was no longer in this world.

He was screaming, screaming with everything he had, as if it could have returned his love to the realm of the living. But, alas, no one but the black kwami was hearing that scream; thanks to another of his father’s work trips, they were alone in the huge mansion.

Cursing at his powerlessness, Adrien was wrecking the room, breaking one object after another. The monitor, the lamp, the TV set – everything was smashing upon the floor, shattering into hundreds of shards.

Upon which he was walking barefooted, feeling no pain at all.

Because the pain of losing his love was drowning everything out.

Ladybug could have fallen in love with Chat Noir, had she not loved him already as Adrien. And he himself had never considered loving Marinette.

With a loud knock, Adrien banged his head against the wall, and then again, and again, until his vision went dark, and blood was flowing down the lacerated forehead.

Ladybug had always refused to take her mask off in front of him, afraid he will be disappointed at seeing the clumsy Dupain-Cheng. Damn, had she dared to, Noir would have been the happiest Cat on earth.

And yet she did remove her mask in front of Hawk Moth.

And took his secret to the grave!

Agreste’s fist crashed into the wall with his full strength.

Chat didn’t even know how to avenge her death. Who was the bastard that took his beautiful Lady away? He’ll kill him, kill him with his own hands, even without a Cataclysm – rip him to shreds, forcing him to suffer the most horrible torture.

Except where, damn it, would he look for him?

Half a year without a single lead.

Brushing Plagg away, Adrien fell to his knees. Shards of a broken vase cut into his legs, but he didn’t even notice.

Ladybug was no more. Marinette was no more. Why was _he_ anymore?

The purpose of his life was protecting the spotted heroine. And Agreste had failed at the task.

His stomach was empty, yet his muscles kept contracting in a futile attempt to vomit. Whenever he closed his eyes, Adrien saw his love’s bloodied body. Whenever he opened them – he saw a world without her.

A horrible world, in which he was unable to live anymore.

“Alive!!!” Plagg’s voice had finally broken through to Adrien’s ears, as the blade was approaching his neck. “She’s alive, fuck it, you earless moron!”

The knife dropped out of his hands, and Adrien stared at his kwami in disbelief.

“I did tell you that Hawk Moth’s brooch had left its owner,” the kitten started ranting now that he had his charge’s attention. “And I told you that your Lady still has her earrings. Are you a total idiot or what?” Genuine concern was obvious in Plagg’s eyes.

“Alive?” there was nothing in Agreste’s eyes; only void. How could she be alive if she was shot?

His head spun. He fainted.  


***

Adrien woke up from the feeling of something cold on his leg. Forcing his eyes open, he raised himself on his elbows, and saw Plagg cleaning a scratch with a cotton wad soaked in something. The majority of his wounds were bandaged already.

“You back?” the kwami grumbled without stopping his work. Later, he would have the time to speak his mind about his owner’s hysterics, as well as complain about the effort of dragging the heavy first aid kit all the way across the mansion. Now, the important thing was putting him back in order.

“She’s really alive?” Adrien asked in a hoarse voice.

“She is,” Plagg confirmed. “She still has the earrings. If I knew anymore, I would have told you”

***

That day, Adrien swore to himself that he’ll find and bring back his Lady. And he’ll have his vengeance upon the ones who had dared to harm her.

Even if he will have to become a murderer.

***

Chat Noir was now patrolling the city almost around the clock, only returning home for three or four hours a day, to sleep and allow Plagg to recover his strength. Adrien tended to miss lessons and photoshoots, preferring to spend the time looking for his Lady, yet he couldn’t find any trace of her. The black kwami insisted she was alive, yet no effort could have calmed Adrien down; his mind kept replaying the recording of the shooting. He kept rewatching the tiniest details in his head, and each time he blamed himself for being unable to save the love of his life.

Maybe Plagg kept saying Marinette was alive, but he couldn’t tell whether she was well.

 

Without the Lady, Chat’s world lost its color. He had long since forgot what it’s like – tasting anything, and only ate in order to fill his stomach and not drop, exhausted, on some roof. He only went to sleep once he was exhausted enough to have no dreams, since the only dreams he could have were of her, bullet-ridden and falling off the bridge into water. The circles around his eyes were beyond the power of makeup artists, forcing him to quit modeling.

But that was even better – more time to search for the Lady.

Gabriel Agreste had even suspected his son of drug abuse at one point, but the tests came back negative.

***

The first anniversary of the bridge incident was the first time in his life that Adrien got drunk. In one hand, he held a bottle of wine, in another – a photo of Marinette, and kept imagining what would have happened had he learned his partner’s identity earlier. The blue-eyed girl with these lovely pigtails was smiling at him so warmly from the photo, that Adrien couldn’t believe he had failed to notice this smile, despite her having always been by his side. Why the hell did he only learn that his love cared about him after losing her?

Would Adrien ever be able to look into her eyes once he finds her?

Would he be able to find her in the first place? Time was passing, yet there wasn’t the slightest lead.

Ladybug… Marinette… his beloved seemed to have dropped off the face of earth.

Well, dropped into the Seine, to be precise.

***

The second anniversary of the murder attempt Adrien met as Chat Noir, on the very spot where his love had been shot. The closest pub didn’t even charge any money from the hero of Paris, giving the protector of the city some strong stuff for free. It was burning his throat, ridding his head from almost every thought, except for the ones that had to do with Marinette. Even alcohol didn’t allow to forget her for so much as a single second.

Chat was feeling he couldn’t keep living like that, that he had to pour his heart out… and didn’t even notice slipping through the window into Chloé Bourgeois’ room.

“I feel so sick, Chlo,” he whined, dropping to his knees in front of the astonished blonde.

And the next moment, a green wave had removed his transformation.

Adrien told her everything; about receiving his Miraculous Stone, about falling in love with Ladybug, about her vanishing from his life one day. He confessed that only half a year after Marinette’s funeral did he learn the identity of the heroine of Paris, and that he had promised to find her and bring her back, since his Lady had to be alive. Agreste poured out all his thoughts, fears and worries, and then turned back into Chat Noir and went out of the window to continue the search for his love, leaving Chloé alone to digest the information she had learned.

***

By now, Adrien knew Marinette’s diary by heart.

The lines written by her hand allowed him to feel her thoughts, come closer to her at least in memories. Leaping from roof to roof, hoping to catch a distant glimpse of a red blur, flying from building to building with her faithful yo-yo, Chat Noir was sometimes stopping at spots significant for both of them.

In the park where Marinette had been spying on his photoshoot.

On the steps of the collège entrance, where he had swapped his umbrella for her heart.

On the roof of the bakery and the house where she had lived.

So, it was no surprise that one morning, Tom Dupain had found the hero of Paris fast asleep in front of his door.

It wasn’t until after he was inside that Noir woke up.

Chat was ashamed to look into Marinette’s parents’ eyes, because over the year and a half since they last met, he didn’t even think to tell them their daughter was alive. He didn’t deserve the care Tom and Sabine showed him by giving him breakfast, allowing him to taste food for the first time in months.

Choking on his tears, standing on his knees, Noir was begging for their forgiveness for failing to protect their only daughter. He promised them that he will find Marinette, because his kwami knew – the Lady was alive. They believed every word.

Sabine Cheng made Chat promise one thing; Noir had to watch his meals and sleep, since with lousy health, he won’t be able to protect their daughter once she’s back home. Tom Dupain had just plain said that his son-in-law had to keep his emotions under control.

And they also made it obvious to Noir that he’ll always be welcome in their house.

***

Time was going on. Adrien was only appearing in his father’s mansion occasionally, and that only because Sabine kept saying Adrien shouldn’t forget his real family. And yet, were it up to him, he would have been happy not to be born as Adrien Agreste, but instead be a regular cat, given to Marinette as a birthday present, so long as it meant she wouldn’t have had to catch bullets with her own body.

But too little in this life was up to him.

Otherwise, he would not have been the son of the man who had almost taken Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s life.

Since the day Adrien had read his father’s suicide note, he didn’t once meet Tom and Sabine. How could he look into their eyes, knowing that his parent had deprived them of the chance to see their daughter? How could he enjoy the taste of their food, understanding that because of Gabriel Agreste, Marinette couldn’t taste their buns? How could he come into their house, aware that his father had stopped Marinette from entering her home’s door for seven long years?

Adrien considered himself guilty just for being his father’s son. For not stopping his villainy, for not knowing what his parent had been doing.

Should he return Marinette to her family, will it alleviate his guilt for even the tiniest bit?

Or will his name be a curse in the friendly family of Monsieur Dupain and Madame Cheng from now on? Would Tom and Sabine be sorry for having once provided food and shelter to the despairing Chat? Would they be dreaming of taking away the warmth they once gave him?

Because all of that should have been Marinette’s.

Every croissant he ever ate at their bakery. Every cup of tea that was offered to the hero of Paris. The most delicious stew he had ever tasted in his life.

If not for Gabriel Agreste, Marinette would have had every breakfast, lunch and dinner among her family. They would have been smiling at each other every day, discussing the latest news. Marinette would have been drawing sketches which Tom and Sabine would have been praising. Perhaps the Lady would have reciprocated Chat’s feelings, and Marinette would have been spending her evenings going on dates with Adrien. She would have asked him out for a fruit shake, and he would have asked her to marry him.

But because of Gabriel Agreste, all of that is, damn it, impossible!

Even now, when Marinette had at long last been found, the mere fact of Adrien being the son of her worst enemy was depriving him of any chance for a future with his beloved.

She won’t forgive.

Maybe now, the Lady was allowing Chat to hug her, was looking at him with unbounded trust. But as soon as she learns who was the bastard daring to wear her partner’s mask, the kindness in her eyes will be replaced with contempt. She will drive him away that very instant, and will never allow a person with the last name of Agreste to approach her, speak to her, touch her.

But even then, Chat won’t dare to stop loving his Lady and will protect her to the end of his days.

Because there is no way Adrien will be able to live without her anymore.


	14. Adrien Agreste

Noir was looking guiltily at his love, who, hiding the face in her palms, was squeaking indistinctly. Chat was perfectly aware; few people will be happy to learn others were reading their private diary, but he couldn’t very well hide it from her, right? He had already omitted the fact that, even if woken up in the middle of the night, he could recite any page by heart.

“Why,” finally, discernible words came out of Marinette’s lips, “out of all the people in the world, were you the one to read my diary? I’ve been writing such rubbish there…”

She squatted, as if it could hide her from Noir’s eyes. Oh, how many secrets and experiences Marinette had left on her diary’s pages! It was so awkward, remembering what she used to write as a schoolgirl. And now Chat knew what Ladybug thought of him and his puns! And about her considering that she might have given Noir a chance, had she not been in love with Agreste!

“Although, better you than Adrien,” Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng whispered in embarrassment.

Chat choked on thin air.

He had almost resigned himself to Marinette never forgiving the Adrien him for his father’s sins, but it was still a terrible pain to hear such a thing. Did the Lady hate her foe’s son so much, that the chance Adrien might have read her diary was so frightening to her?

“Why?” Noir asked with caution.

“As if you don’t know, Kitty!” Marinette raised her head and looked at the former partner. “I wrote about him on just about every page there.”

“Are you sorry about that?” his question was barely audible. The pages of Marinette’s diary were the only evidence that his Lady had once cared about him without the mask. Noir knew that her love was now in the past (he couldn’t very well hope for her to return his feelings after everything that happened!), but how, damn it, he wanted her to at least not be sorry about that time.

“Not that I’m sorry,” the girl sat upon the bed and patted the spot next to her, inviting Noir to sit down. Chat sat next to her obediently, and Marinette laid her head on his shoulder. Even though it was seven years since they last met, she still trusted her partner just as unconditionally. Now that he knew her identity (and, it turns out, had also read her diary), she could tell him everything. “Just… whenever I remember that, I feel like a naïve fool.”

“Because…” Chat swallowed the lump in his throat. “You liked Hawk Moth’s son?”

“Because I had no problem jumping into a dinosaur’s maw,” Marinette gave a bitter chuckle, recalling them battling Animan. “Yet asking Adrien out to the movies appeared to be an impossible task.”

“Well, you know, My Lady, asking you out to a movie was impossible to me too back then.”

“You’re not angry at me?” Marinette squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold in the resurfacing tears. Damn, her parents knew she was alive, Noir did… what was the point of all the hide-and-seek, then?

“I could never be angry at you, Princess,” Chat said softly, taking the Lady’s hand in his. Her petite palm, lying on his clawed ‘paw’, forced the hero of Paris to think ‘Beauty and the Beast’. Of course, he, who couldn’t even protect his soul mate from his own father, couldn’t even be called a beast. At the most, he was nothing.

“Are you sure everything will be okay if I return?”

“Today is the best day of my life from the second I saw you are alive and well. I am certain your parents will react the same.”

“Silly Kitty,” Marinette snickered.

His words were too sweet, yet she really wanted to believe everything he said was true. Still, some of his words made her wary. She didn’t account for it right away, but did suddenly realize one thing; Noir knew Gabriel Agreste used to be Hawk Moth. Did that mean he had confessed to that in his suicide note as well? How much did he tell? How much was known to Adrien? After all, according to Chloé, he did know Gabriel was the one to have sent the hitmen after her blood.

“Kitten,” Marinette pulled away from her partner and looked into his eyes. “what did Gabriel Agreste’s suicide note contain?”

“He has confessed to arranging your assassination,” Noir’s voice was shaking. It wasn’t a subject he wanted to discuss right now (after seven years apart, just being silent at her side was more than enough!), but Chat couldn’t refuse answering his love’s question. Even if every answer Noir gave brought him closer to revealing his identity.

“What about me being Ladybug and him… Hawk Moth.”

“He wrote that,” Chat admitted honestly. From his Lady’s changed expression, he realized at once that wasn’t the answer she wanted.

“How many people know?” Marinette hugged herself. While she did almost conquer the fear of returning to her old life, thanks to Noir, the fear of removing the mask in front of the whole world was beyond her to handle.

“Chloé,” Noir’s claws were digging into his palm. He promised he won’t lie to Marinette, but making her worry from the full truth was painful. “And Nathalie.”

“Nathalie…” the name seemed familiar to her. “Is that Gabriel Agreste’s secretary?”

The hero nodded, and Marinette asked the next question.

“And Adrien?” she lowered her eyes to the floor. “Does Adrien know?”

Chat couldn’t say ‘He does, because I am him’. He tried, he even opened the mouth for that… but the words got stuck in his throat from the fear that Marinette would never want to talk to him again. Damn it, Noir even caught himself thinking how he wished his transformation will last forever! He was afraid to lose his love again just because his mask concealed the one person she never wanted to see in her life.

“Before I answer that,” Noir lowered his head, feeling guilty for abusing the situation, “Could you tell me what you think of… him?”

“Are you asking whether I’m still in love with him?” without waiting for an answer, Marinette continued: “No. That’s in the past.”

Marinette was aware she was lying, to herself first of all. The moment she saw Adrien at his father’s funeral, the all but dead feelings inside her had burst into roaring flames. No, she wouldn’t be stuttering in front of him now, or blush in embarrassment, but the sight of him would still make her heart hammer out ‘I do’ in clear Morse.

The girl laid her head on Noir’s shoulder. She could have never imagined her loyal Kitty would make her feel so safe and comfortable. It was strange; they haven’t met for more time than they spent together, yet Marinette felt like she never had a closer friend than him.

She was truly sorry she gave her heart to the former classmate rather than a fellow hero. But, alas, she still couldn’t help it. All she could do was keep lying.

“I see,” Noir licked his dry lips. Stupid Cat, still daring to hope for something!

He had missed his chance while still in collège, by never sparing Marinette a second glance, The voice of reason tried to tell him it was enough that the Lady is alive and well, but his heart was tearing itself into a thousand agonizing pieces at realizing he had no place in her life.

With the mask on – maybe. Without it – never.

But how long would the hero be able to keep his identity secret? At any moment, the Princess could ask him to reveal it, and there was no way Noir could refuse her.

Why the hell was he born as Gabriel Agreste’s son? Once, Adrien had admired his father, wanted to please and be recognized by him. Now, all he felt was hatred and contempt. Not only had  Gabriel been sending villains to terrorize Paris, he had ruined the life of Marinette and his own son.

And at the end, he had ruined everything even more, by shooting himself before Adrien could have his revenge!

Noir clenched his right hand into a fist. If he was given a chance to travel into the past, he wouldn’t have hesitated for a second before using Cataclysm.

Although – the fist unclenched on its own – Adrien himself was no less at fault. Living in the same house as his own father, he never noticed a thing. He himself was to blame for not stopping his father, allowing him to go about his villainy, and, most importantly, to do what he had done to Marinette.

“Adrien Agreste is a real bastard,” Chat sighed heavily.

“Don’t say that,” Marinette objected. “Children aren’t responsible for their parents’ sins. And Adrien had done nothing bad himself.”

“He didn’t strangle his daddy in his sleep,” that Noir was truly sorry for.

“He didn’t know what his father was like,” Dupain-Cheng couldn’t agree with her former partner. “Besides, Adrien didn’t have anyone except his father. I can’t even imagine what he must have felt when he learned of the suicide. No to mention once he read the note.”

“You are too kind, Princess,” a weak smile appeared on the hero’s face.

Ladybug had always been too kind to everyone, even foes. If not for her kindness, she would not have risked her life, and Hawk Moth would have gone to jail all these years ago. Yet Marinette was not only kind, but also cruel. Because her words were igniting a hope in Chat Noir’s heart. What if, having learned who hides behind his mask, she’ll agree not to break all contact with him?

“Marinette,” Chat needed his full determination to ask the question, “does that mean you don’t hate Adrien Agreste?”

“Why would I hate him?” the young woman asked in sincere surprise. “More like he should hate me,” the former heroine’s voice shook. “Consider; I stopped his mother from being resurrected, I made his father shoot himself in the head… I bet anything, Adrien will never forgive me.”

“What rubbish are you talking, My Lady?!” Noir grabbed Marinette’s shoulders, looking into her eyes in despair. “He cannot hate you!” Chat sniffled, tears running down his cheeks again. “Not you! Anyone but you, Marinette!”

“Kitten, I do not understand…” Marinette tried to pull away – her partner’s reaction was too weird to her – but he didn’t let her, clutching her tight in his arms.

“My Lady, I love you,” the words and feelings that Noir was holding and suppressing so hard, were now bursting out. “I always have, since the first day we met. Whatever happens, I could never forget or stop loving you. You are everything to me. I have no one but you. I never will. Because without you – there will be no me… And if you are saying you don’t want to ever see me because my father… my father…”

The words once again got stuck in his throat. He wouldn’t have been able to say them in any case, shaking as he wept. Noir was clutching Marinette as if she was a lifebuoy in a storming sea; as if his life depended on how tight he will hold her.

Marinette didn’t know how to react. A single word kept repeating itself in her head; impossible. But how else could she explain Chat’s condition and words. As if the hero’s mask was hiding…

“Marinette, you need to calm him down,” Tikki, watching the heroes’ reunion from inside the closet, decided to finally interfere.

Dupain-Cheng looked at her kwami in confusion. She was perfectly aware that she needed to stop her partner’s sudden fit, but how?

“Listen to your heart,” the spotted being squeaked before retreating back to her hideout. A vague advice, but if Tikki was right, Marinette will realize on her own what she had to do. And the wise kwami had no intention to bother her anymore.

Noir, still sobbing, didn’t even notice the red kwami. Nothing and no one existed for him at the moment, except for Marinette, whom he kept clutching in his arms. Chat feared that the girl will reject his confession, that this will be the last chance in his life to touch her, to feel her warmth. Noir forgot he was masked right now, that he didn’t reveal his identity yet. He couldn’t believe his Lady had ever considered the thought that he could hate her! How could she think that about him? All these seven long years, he lived only for the sake of meeting her again. For that, he was willing to die the most horrible death thousands of times over. The hero of Paris was willing to do anything to prove his feelings, yet right now, all he could do was sob uncontrollably.

Marinette carefully pulled her right arm out of the vice between them, and stroked her Kitty’s head. Was the thought so impossible? Could the sudden guess which came to her in response to her partner’s strange behavior be the answer to so many questions? Her heart kept insisting “Yes!”, and Tikki told her to listen to it.

To cast away her fears. To tell the truth to herself.

And whisper into her loyal partner’s ear that which she had never dared to speak in her life:

“I love you, Adrien Agreste.”

***

Noir flinched, his sobs stopping at once. He must have misheard! The words were too unbelievable to be true. He froze, not even daring to breathe, hoping Marinette will repeat them again.

“Silly Kitty, answer something,” she mumbled hesitantly. “At least say I’m right. Because otherwise, I’ll feel like a real idiot. Well, I already do, because if you _are_ Adrien and have read my diary, then… Argh, Noir, say something!”

“Marinette,” Chat grabbed her face and looked into her eyes. “Will you truly accept me without the mask? After everything my father did to you?”

“I never blamed you for what he did.”

He whispered the detransformation phrase, a green wave rushing over his body; the black shadow of a surprisingly tactful kwami darting into the closet to join his spotted friend. Oh, gods, what a pleasure it was, touching his beloved’s cheeks without his gloves, to feel her soft skin, and not to see the revulsion he expected in her eyes! Marinette, his Lady, his Princess, was warmly and softly, shyly and gently smiling at him, not driving him away, not despising him.

Gulping down the lump of excitement in his throat, Adrien carefully approached her lips – and froze, not daring to kiss them. He was feeling the tickling of her breath, felt the warmth of these lips a millimeter away from his, even without touching them.

What if it’s a dream? What if he’ll wake up as soon as their lips touch? He won’t handle such a thing. Should Adrien wake up now without Marinette in front of him – he will die.

Adrien flinched when he felt his Lady lean forward, making their lips touch after all. A wave of goosebumps rushed all over his body. This was no dream; a feeling beyond his wildest dreams had to be reality! Her lips were innocently, gently, chastely pressing against his, as if Marinette wasn’t a woman of twenty-five, but still a schoolgirl, for whom kisses were something mysterious, unreal, unusual. Damn, Adrien was like that himself! But the desire building up in him for so many years could no longer be contained.

He was dreaming of it ever since he fell in love with her, since the day they met, since their first battle. For years he was dreaming what her lips would taste like, without a chance to get the answer. He traced the shape of her lips with his tongue, finally satisfying the curiosity raging inside him. Never before had Adrien felt anything like it, and they have only just started their kiss!

The Princess opened her mouth a bit, as if inviting his tongue in, and Adrien took the invitation without delay. Damn, Adrien couldn’t wait for one second, now that after all these years, he was finally getting the chance he craved! Through exploring every millimeter of her mouth, running his tongue over her teeth, entangling his tongue with hers, Adrien was trying to express all the feelings that were filling his heart.

Sensing that Marinette was returning the kiss – that was the best reward imaginable for all the years, minutes, seconds of missing and longing for her. His fears were unfounded, while the love was mutual. He didn’t deserve such happiness, yet there was no way he could refuse it.

His lungs were burning from lack of oxygen, but Adrien was unable to break the kiss. He needed her love more than air. He felt like he would never sate that craving, because each second only made him want to continue even more.

They say true kissing experts can tie a thread into a knot with their tongue. Well, maybe for Adrien and Marinette this was the first true kiss in their life, yet their tongues seemed to be entangling with each other passionately enough to knit a whole sweater.

Marinette pulled away first, and, after a few hurried gasps, dove back into the kiss. They were caressing each other’s lips, biting lightly, licking, enjoying each other.

Their hands seemed to have a life of their own. Adrien couldn’t even tell at what point his right hand ended up under Marinette’s shirt, his fingers sliding over the groove of her back, while the fingers of his left hand were entangled in the Princess’s silky hair, and her sharp claws started scratching his back.

How happy Adrien would have been had this moment never ended, Marinette staying in his arms forever.

Yet it seemed fate, as always, had decided to interfere with his happiness. An annoying buzzing came out of his pocket, indicating a message arriving to his phone in the worst possible moment. Adrien ignored the sound, continuing to enjoy his beloved, but then another signal broke the silence. Adrien felt Marinette tense, and whispered against her lips “can wait”.

Alas, the third signal forced his Lady to pull away.

“Could be something important,” she said, struggling to regain her breath. “Check it.”

“Only you are important to me,” he answered as he reached into the pocket to turn off the annoying device. However, upon seeing it was Chloé messaging him, Adrien decided he better check why Bourgeois dared to disturb his happiness.

_[From your phone appearing on the network, I imagine everything went well?]_

_[Tell your ‘Princess’ she’s fired starting today, and needs to clear out of the apartment before tomorrow.]_

_[I’m no philanthropist, so remember you’ll need to cover my expenses for everything, including the neighbors’ silence. I’ll tell you the sum later, for now you can enjoy your life!]_

 

Yeah, really easy to enjoy things when one is being distracted by such messages!

Before Adrien could press the power button, the phone announced the arrival of another SMS.

_[Father asked to notify Noir; Antoine Pierrot was found dead.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antoine Pierrot:
> 
> \- a textile magnate;  
> \- an avid lover of both drink and beautiful women;  
> \- having been drunk, was harassing Marinette during Gabriel Agreste's funeral;  
> \- the owner of the abandoned factory building from chapters 6-7


	15. Crossing the Threshold.

“Did something happen?” Marinette asked worriedly once she saw how Adrien’s face changed after reading the last message. He looked tense and worried, his annoyance at being interrupted replaced by detached thoughtfulness.

“What?” deep in his own thoughts, Agreste didn’t respond right away. However, the moment he felt the worried stare of his love’s blue eyes on him, all the problems seemed petty to him. “No, everything is fine,” he smiled, taking Marinette’s hand. “I’ve been waiting to meet you again for seven years; work can wait until tomorrow.”

“If it’s important, don’t worry about me,” shyly, Marinette bit her swollen from kisses lip. “I promise not to disappear anymore,” the whisper was barely audible.

Adrien wanted to answer that there was nothing and nobody in the world more important to him than Marinette, but was afraid she’ll consider it an exaggeration. The diary had more than one entry about her doubting Chat’s sincerity when he spoke about his feelings for her, getting the impression it was a public stunt. There was some truth in that; back then, Noir really did want to attract Ladybug’s attention, but he never lied about his feelings for her. But what if now Marinette will react like she did back then? Adrien would have given his life for her without hesitation, but was afraid she’ll assume his intentions were a simple joke.

“Chloé says that she got you fired from work,” Agreste said simply. “And that you need to clear the room by tonight.”

Marinette flinched. She did, of course, all but accept that she had to return home, but everything was happening way too fast. A couple hours ago, she was afraid to even consider ever returning to her old life, and now she was facing the blunt fact it had to be done before the day is out. The fear started rising up again, but this time, instead of giving in, the girl squeezed her partner’s hand tighter, seeking support.

“I’m not ready,” she admitted. “I have absolutely no idea what to tell Mom and Dad…”

“No need to worry about that for now, My Lady.”

***

The whole day looked like a dream.

First, Chloé came over, then Chat Noir, who turned out to be Adrien, and now she was about to return home. As things were, her parents were currently visiting her uncle in China, and yet Marinette couldn’t calm her nerves down. Her heart was hammering like mad, the desire to throw everything away and flee kept rising inside her, yet it evaporated each time her gaze met Adrien’s.

Marinette was attempting to gather her few belongings, but the excitement made her drop everything all the time. Finally, Agreste interfered. Saying “Take only the necessities”, the young man called Nathalie and told her to hire some guys to move the rest of her things to the bakery. Seeing a smug feline grin on Adrien’s face was so unusual, even though, damn it, this whole day was way out of ordinary already. Yet all the records of the unusual were beaten by Noir’s black kwami, who had introduced himself as Plagg, chastising his charge like a misbehaving kitten, implying Marinette didn’t have enough things in her closet to require movers. Which is why, after a call to cancel his request, Adrien started packing up the things into a bag himself, while Marinette went to finally have her morning shower.

To her surprise, she wasn’t feeling sorry at all about leaving the place in which she lived for five years. Even the fact that she was showering here for the last time didn’t seem remarkable in any way. It seems Emma Lee’s life was alien to her after all, considering how easy it was to give the name up.

The only thing worrying her at the moment wasn’t giving up Emma Lee, but returning to the life of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Nathaniel, Tikki and Nooroo had tried many times to make her return, but she was always adamant. Now, thanks to the support of Chat Noir, who turned out to be Adrien, Marinette felt a lot calmer, yet the worry couldn’t disappear completely. Nate, Chloé, Noir, they had all insisted everyone will be happy at Marinette’s ‘resurrection’, but could they know for sure? How will Alya react, and the rest of her friends? Will their attitude toward her change, or will everything be as it was seven years ago? What about her parents?

Marinette had all but resigned herself to the thought of never seeing them again, and now, knowing that they’d been waiting for her all this time, she couldn’t hold her tears. Was it true, that she will soon feel her mother’s gentle embrace and father’s firm one? Will she once again taste those delicious buns baked by Dad along with Mom’s trademark tea? Could it be that, woken up in the middle of the night by a terrible nightmare, she will be able to come to her parents, and, after a tender ‘It was just a dream’, fall back asleep with the feeling of Mom’s hand stroking her hair caringly?

Was it true that, just a little longer, and Marinette will be able to say these magical words?

‘I’m home’.

If not for Adrien, she would never have dared to make that step.

If not for Adrien…

The girl wiped her tears and chuckled, looking into the fogged-up mirror.

Who would have thought her brash partner and mild-mannered classmate were one and the same? What a strange thing fate is. That meant Ladybug made the deal with Hawk Moth for Chat Noir’s sake. Had she known seven years ago, she wondered, that her enemy was her loyal Kitty’s father, how would she have acted? Would she have still tried to shield her partner from the terrible truth from which she wanted to shield her first love? Or would she have said to his face who his father was, forcing him to face Hawk Moth alongside her?

Marinette shook her head.

No. Nothing would have changed.

At the most, she wouldn’t have taken off the mask in front of her mortal foe, but as for the rest… Chat, Adrien – they were both very dear to her all along, even if back then Marinette had tried to deny Noir was more than a partner to her. After all, seven years apart were enough to show her clearly how much of her heart was reserved for the troublesome Kitten.

Such a good thing they were both the same person! And one in love with her, too.

Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s cheeks burst aflame. The moment she resigned herself to the idea of returning, the old habits started slipping in. Well, so long as she doesn’t start stuttering in front of the Kitty…

The girl closed the water and grabbed her towel. Wiping the water droplets off herself, Marinette couldn’t stop imagining how the bakery might have changed in the years of her absence. For seven years she didn’t cross the threshold of her home, didn’t see its walls, didn’t smell the wonderful aroma of freshly baked pastries. Had her parents done any repairs in the meantime? Perhaps there was a complete interior redesigning and refurnishing? Did the house still look anything like the image that kept popping up in her mind with a flash of painful nostalgia?

And what happened to her room during those seven years?

Of course, it couldn’t have remained the same. After all, even Marinette being alive only became known to Mom and Dad two years after the incident on the bridge. But was there anything left that would remind of the former resident? What happened to the giant cat-shaped pillow? Her mannequin? The hats she made shortly before vanishing?

Marinette slapped herself on the cheeks.

There was no point in getting wound up in advance; just a little longer and she will see everything for herself. She now had not only Tikki with her, but also a loyal partner whom she trusted even after all these years. Dupain-Cheng caught herself thinking, that had Noir and Adrien been different people, the only person who could have made her return wouldn’t have been the latter. And it had nothing to do with his father.

“Damn it!” trying to put her leg into her jeans, the girl almost crashed to the floor at realizing another mistake of hers. She still had Gabriel Agreste’s photo on her door, and Adrien had seen that his father’s image had been used as a dartboard. Marinette wasn’t sorry about planting darts between the former Hawk Moth’s eyes – after all, it was an excellent stress relief, considering he had sponsored those seven bullets that kept reminding of themselves through whitish scars. But still, the man was Adrien’s father, and Chat wouldn’t have been pleased at seeing such a thing.

Putting a clean shirt on, Marinette looked at herself in the fogged-up mirror three times, not so much to check her looks as to delay exiting into the room. The girl gave a deep sigh, gulped down the lump in her throat, and, feeling herself growing redder from shame by the second, pushed the latch and opened the door.

***

Adrien was standing at the apartment door, and, not an emotion on his face, looking at the well-perforated photo of his father. Deep in thought, he didn’t even notice his beloved approaching him and, biting her lip guiltily, putting her warm hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’ll take it off right away.”

“Again, Marinette?” Adrien caught her arm as it was reaching for the dartboard. He spun his love to face him and tried to smile at her, showing it was okay.

But the sadness in her eyes could not be concealed.

“It’s just…” she averted her gaze. “He’s your father… you must be hurt…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to kill him myself,” Adrien interrupted her. His voice was reflecting his conviction, yet also betrayed the worry; he definitely didn’t intend to confess that, but he couldn’t keep watching Marinette tearing herself apart over the matter. “And I’m afraid to even consider what would have happened had he managed to kill you. When I learned he was the one behind the attempt to assassinate you,” Agreste fell silent for a second, trying to bring his raging fury at the deceased one under control, “I wanted to shoot myself in the head as well. Me promising to your parents that I’ll bring you back was the only thing that stopped me.”

Marinette felt as if the ground collapsed under her feet at the confession. Had the kwami not been able to feel that a Miraculous Stone’s owner is alive, who knows whether Adrien would have been alive now. Her fear at returning home might have cost the life of her loyal partner and the man she loved. She could have lost him because of her own stupidity!

Realizing that Adrien won’t accept another ‘sorry’, she hugged him silently, trying to convey through that embrace how much she regretted not returning to him sooner.

A return embrace told her that Noir has no intention to lose his Lady again.

***

Crossing the threshold into her old life was hard, but Marinette had finally realized it was a necessary decision, The first small reward on the path to the bright new future was the shock on her ex-neighbors’ faces, once they saw Emma Lee come out of her flat hand in hand with Adrien Agreste himself! And once that impudent, feline-grin-wearing blond had allowed himself to kiss her right in front of everyone, a couple of the girls had almost fainted on the spot. Not only was that wallflower waitress an acquittance of the mayor’s daughter, she also managed to snag the most handsome, wealthy, eligible guy of all France!

Alas, the hush money received from Chloé Bourgeois did not allow them to share the gossip with the rest of the world, so the girls could only console themselves with Chat Noir still being on the single men market.

The next threshold left behind the gray multistory shape of the former workers’ residence. Out of habit, Marinette pulled up the hood to cover her face, realizing she might be doing it for the last time. The place which used to be her home for the past five years was left behind, yet she didn’t even turn her head for a silent farewell.

The nightmare which had started the minute the former heroine fell from the bridge, was about to end.

Yet there was one final threshold to cross before the final return; the most important and frightening one. The one that would, once crossed, bring Marinette into her real home.

Adrien was perfectly aware of how nervous his Lady was. Throughout the way back, she was fixing her hood every two minutes, kept making short stops for a couple deep breaths, was distracting herself with whatever possible, yet she kept walking on. Marinette had refused outright to take a train or a car, had rejected the offer of ‘ _Chat Express_ ’, and decided she would rather walk to the other side of the city on foot.

Even though the way back took hours, Adrien didn’t say a word of objection; his beloved needed that time, and he, himself, only needed her.

Adrien didn’t even rush her during the fifteen minutes Marinette had spent in front of her parents’ bakery’s door, not daring to so much as touch the doorknob. With a warm smile, he was watching his love pressing the hands against her chest, as if trying to bring a madly beating heart under control.

 _Seven_ years since Marinette had last crossed her home’s threshold.

 _Six_ of them she had spent certain that she never will, either.

 _Five_ hours ago, her opinion had changed.

 _Four_ hours ago, she had crossed the threshold of Emma Lee’s flat for the last time.

 _Three_ pair of eyes, belonging to Adrien and two kwamis, were watching patiently as Marinette struggled to gather the courage for opening the door.

 _Two_ turns of a key were very hard to make with her fingers trembling.

 _One_ step – and Emma Lee became Marinette Dupain-Cheng again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes:  
> The "Return" story ark is over, yet three more await us ;)  
> The next story ark will be dealing with the textile magnate's death.
> 
> Translator's notes:  
> The author says she is very pleased at your comments to the translation.


	16. The Past and the Future

Nothing had changed in the bakery. Neither the logo Marinette had drawn so long ago, nor the furnishing, nor the feeling of coziness the walls were radiating. The girl brushed her hand over the counter, caressed every shelf, brushed off a tear as she smiled at father’s oven, and finally said:

“I’m home.”

Then, counting every step, she ascended to the second floor where her parents lived. Leaning her forehead against the door, the girl stood like that for a few minutes, gathering the courage to step over another threshold to her old life.

The warmth of Adrien’s palm on her shoulder gave Marinette the determination to enter yet another door.

To the left of the entrance, the bookcase was standing as usual, except there were more books on the shelves now. But even so, it had space for the ten-year-old photo showing a happy family; Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng smiling along with their daughter. Over the seven years Marinette hadn’t seen her parents, they probably got a few wrinkles, but this photo had them exactly as she remembered. The girl caressed the picture frame gently, as if trying to convey her feelings to Mom and Dad.

“They’ll be back in two weeks, My Lady,” Adrien whispered so quietly as if he was afraid to ruin a moment.

Even before they left Emma Lee’s flat, he was about to call Marinette’s parents and tell them the happy news, but she asked him not to.

Marinette knew; the parents will drop everything at once and fly to Paris on the first plane available, will be nervous, concerned, worried… Better let things take their course. She hadn’t seen Mom and Dad for seven whole years, two weeks, compared to that, are…

Almost an eternity.

After all, as recently as yesterday, she didn’t even dare to hope ever meeting them again.

“I can call them at any moment,” even after all that time, the loyal partner seemed to be reading her thoughts. “Just say so.”

“No need,” Marinette objected, brushing the back of the beige sofa in the living room. “I fear this will be too much emotion for me,” the girl didn’t conceal her tears nor the smile, as she sat behind the dining table and touched the cold countertop. Same one as seven years ago. Even the fridge was the same!.. But the microwave wasn’t.

“The old one broke last year,” Adrien explained, following Marinette’s gaze.

“You seem to be well informed,” Dupain-Cheng noted. Had anyone told her seven years ago, that Adrien Agreste will have a set of keys to ‘Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie’ and know when the new microwave in her parents’ house had been bought, Marinette would have considered the person mad.

Embarrassed, Adrien scratched the back of his head.

“Do you want to go up?” he asked, nodding toward the stairs leading to the room where Marinette had lived once.

The girl tensed visibly. On the one hand, she wanted to see how her room had changed, but on the other, she was afraid to. The whole house remained almost as it used to be, but what could be waiting for her upstairs?

“Don’t be afraid, Marinette,” Tikki supported her. “I’m flying with you.”

“And I think I’m staying here,” Plagg flew out of Adrien’s pocket and phased through the fridge door.

***

Marinette couldn’t believe her eyes. Nothing had changed in the room. Same pink walls, slightly yellowed sketches and fashion magazine cutouts upon them, an unfinished dress waiting for the tailor upon the mannequin, a giant favorite cat pillow lying on the bed, the pencil-holder on the table still holding her favorite pen. Everything was just like seven years ago, except that maybe back then, the back of her chair didn’t have a man’s jeans hanging over it.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll put this away!” realizing what she was looking at, Adrien grabbed the pants and shoved them into the large travel bag that turned out to lie under the sofa.

“Adrien?” the surprised Marinette wasn’t sure what shocked her more; her long-time love keeping his things in her room, or him blushing so hard at realizing she saw it.

“I can explain!” it was almost a squeak. “See, you weren’t here, and your parents allowed me to sometimes stay over, so I…”

“Slept exclusively in your bed for the past five years,” the black kwami betrayed his charge as he flew into the room, a large chunk of cheese in his paws.

“Plagg!” the twenty-five years old Agreste blushed harder than schoolgirl Marinette used to blush in front of him.

He himself couldn’t explain how it happened. The day Tom Dupain had found the sleeping hero of Paris sleeping at his bakery’s door, Adrien’s life changed drastically. The food made by his love’s parents was the only food he could actually taste. Only when communicating with the ones that brought Marinette to this world, could Adrien allow himself to smile. And her empty bed was the only place where he could be free from the nightmares about what happened to his Lady on that bridge.

Marinette’s parents were very surprised to learn their daughter’s partner was her classmate, but had warmly adopted him into the family. In secret from everyone, Adrien was living in his beloved’s room, not daring to change a thing, so that he could one day return the place to its rightful owner. All his things were kept in a big travel bag lying under the sofa, and whenever he needed anything else – that’s when he had to visit Gabriel Agreste’s mansion, Adrien’s no-longer-home.

That common hope – for Marinette’s return – was binding Adrien to Tom and Sabine stronger than any blood ties. They had supported each other in times difficult for all three, shared memories of the one missing, built plans for the times when she finally returns. Adrien was thanking all gods for Monsieur Dupain and Madame Cheng having gone to China before he had learned the truth about his father. Because he had not the slightest idea how to tell them about everything.

“So, this is your room now?” Marinette grinned, repeating the peculiar ritual of brushing her hand over every surface of her old home.

“The Loyal Knight has been guarding the Princess’s chambers in her absence,” Adrien answered with a bow, “And is ready to vacate them at any moment. Although, should the beautiful Lady allow her Kitty to take the sofa, he will be most grateful.”

***

Adrien was starting to really hate Chloé. No, of course he was grateful to her for finding Marinette, but, damn, interrupting his and the Princess’s kiss for the second time today – that took a special kind of talent. And while he did take his previous mistake into account by turning off the phone, a ring at the door, alas, was outside his control.

“Chlo, couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?” Adrien said through gritted teeth. “Nathaniel?” he noticed her companion in surprise. “What did _you_ forget here?”

“Came to congratulate Marinette on her return,” Kurtzberg shouldered Adrien away as he came in. “You know, I’m a bit hurt,” he told Marinette as he handed her a cake in a box, “for three years, I’ve been convincing you to return, and as soon as these two appear, you are home already. Not even a call to me.”

“As if _you_ won’t find me,” Marinette grinned, accepting the gift. “Thanks, Chloé.”

The blonde gave a smug nod, and threw a proud gaze at the annoyed Adrien. All these years, he was lost without his Lady, and that impudent redhead had actually been in contact with her?! Hadn’t even told about her being alive and well to her parents! Agreste remembered well that Kurtzberg used to be in love with Marinette during their school days, enough to be akumatized over that. Who knew how Nathanael might have used the privileged position of one who knew her wherabouts?

“Don’t be jealous, he’s friendzoned,” Chloé whispered into her best friend’s year before taking Kurtzberg’s hand and leading him to the living room.

***

“Are you returning officially now?” Nathaniel asked Marinette as the for were sitting behind the table and enjoying the cake.

“Better wait a bit,” Chloé said sternly before Dupain-Cheng could answer.

“Why?” not that Marinette objected (the changes to her life were sharp enough already), but she needed to ask.

“Nathalie has almost traced father’s money trail,” Adrien explained with his head lowered. “A bit more time, and we’ll find the perpetrator.”

Thanks to Gabriel Agreste’s confession, Adrien finally had a lead on the case of Marinette’s assassination attempt. With the employer being known now, Chat Noir got a chance to catch the ones who had actually been shooting on that bridge. In seven years, he didn’t find a single thread that would lead him to those people, but now Adrien will not miss his chance.

And the Cat could have his revenge.

He will not hold back, won’t spare a Cataclysm for the occasion, will personally send to hell the bastards who dared raise weapons against his Lady. Giving them a trial? Too humane.

Chat Noir never got the chance to take Hawk Moth’s life. No one will be allowed to stand in his way. He’ll have his revenge, even if Ladybug herself will be against it.

Except that, should the perpetrator learn that his victim is alive, he could go into even deeper hiding.

“So for now, our most precious trump card and witness, you will have to stay under protection,” Mademoiselle Bourgeois sighed. “Two or three people can be told you’re alive, but the final return will have to be delayed by a month or so. By the way, Adrien, did you get my SMS?”

“How much?” Adrien asked, recalling Chloé’s words about covering her expenses. He was willing to give Bourgeois any sum for finding his Lady. Two thirds of his inheritance had already been given away to Nathalie and Marinette’s parents. Giving the rest up would have been no problem, considering his greatest treasure was sitting right next to him.

But currently, money was the least of Chloé’s worries. Besides, she had already wanted very much to find and bring back Marinette; the SMS with the demand to pay was nothing more than a joke. Another problem was bothering her now.

“Antoine Pierrot has been murdered,” Bourgeois reminded. Her father demanded that Chat Noir be notified with all haste, not even listening when she tried to tell him the hero of Paris might not be in proper condition to respond immediately.

But, to the blonde’s surprise, Adrien wasn’t the first to respond to the news about the businessman’s death.

“Good riddance,” Nathaniel snorted, recalling what a creep the man had been toward Marinette during Gabriel’s funeral, and then took a gulp of tea with such a calm expression, as if he did not say a word.

“Does this have to do with the shooting on his factory?” Marinette entered the conversation. Monsieur Pierrot might have been a most despicable person, but she never wanted him dead. And if the matter involved the ones who had killed the Wang brothers and stole the real package, she had to figure the matter out. Not so much out of her debt to Madame Zhou, as for the sake of Paris not being drowned in the blood of gang wars.

“Most likely,” Adrien answered, surprised at Marinette being informed about the matter. Of course, the event and the hero’s subsequent chase after the motorcycle had been thoroughly covered in the news. “It is possible the Shade is involved.”

“Shade?” the brunette and the redhead asked in unisob.

“The one that fled from Chat Noir on a bike.” Chloé clarified.

“I don’t think so,” Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng spoke bashfully.

“We can’t rule out the possibility,” Agreste reflected. “As far as I know,” he glanced at Nathaniel, “She took something important.”

Adrien wasn’t sure how well Kurtzberg was informed about the identity of the heroine of Paris. He’d been next to Marinette for years, but how much did she tell him? Of course, Nathaniel knew Gabriel Agreste had ordered the hit on her (the dartboard on her door proved that the girl didn’t hide her hatred toward the man), but did he know the reason? Was the redhead aware that Agreste Sr. had been terrorizing the city as Hawk Moth, and Marinette, in a Ladybug mask, had stopped him?

“Nay,” Marinette glanced at Chloé in turn. “She did not.”

“You know something?” Adrien asked in surprise, and then noticed the girl trying to avert her gaze.

Even if they had spent years apart, Chat Noir knew his Lady too well. The realization came at once, even if part of him refused to accept the truth.

“Damn it, Princess, don’t tell me it was you!” Agreste shouted desperately. Was it _then_ that he saw her, and let her go? Was she the one he chased with every ounce of his strength? Perhaps that’s why he wanted so much to find that Shade; because deep within, he knew who she was?

“Fine, I’ll be silent,” the brunette smiled guiltily, confirming all his guesses.

The anxiety made Adrien forget Chloé and Nathaniel were in the room as well, and some secret could be still unknown to Kurtzberg. Agreste didn’t care one bit about secret identities now, only his beloved’s recklessness.

“My Lady, do you even realize how dangerous it was?” Adrien’s voice shook as he imagined what might have happened at the factory that day, had the Princess’s luck abandoned her. “You might have been wounded… or… killed…”

What if, after all these years, instead of a living Princess, Agreste would have found her corpse? It would have killed him! She had leaped right into the thick of the fight without her bulletproof costume! Was such a risk to her life worth it? What the hell could have made Marinette take such a risk? And most horrible of all; Chat Noir was there, yet he preferred to sit and stay out of it, not drawing attention, not even guessing that at any moment, his inaction might have cost him his true love!

“Well, it turned out okay,” Marinette bit her lip, perfectly aware Adrien’s worries were hardly unfounded. “Besides, I wasn’t alone.”

It was impossible not to realize who she was talking about. Agreste’s hate-filled stare was directed at the one who’d been keeping her secret over the past years. So, not only had the redheaded scoundrel been hiding her from everyone, he also allowed her to risk her life! And he was definitely the one driving that motorcycle, meaning he had summoned the butterflies that made Noir lose his prey. Kurtzberg was the new Hawk Moth, so he definitely knew Marinette was Ladybug.

Well, Adrien didn’t intend to hold back anymore.

“You!” he roared, grabbing and shaking Nathaniel, almost making him knock over his cup. “Why the hell did you let her get involved in that? It was you on that bike? Right? Why did you allow her to go without her suit? She could have been killed!”

“Oh really?” Adrien’s outburst hardly made an impression on Nate. However, his words led Kurtzberg to a not so pleasant thought. “Chat Noir?”

“The very same one,” Agreste snarled, still gripping the redhead’s shirt.

“Then who should talk?” Nathaniel spat out. “You’re the one who couldn’t protect her from your own daddy! Living in the same house as the main villain of Paris and hunting him at the same time. Nver felt worthless? Had you looked at him more closely, you would not have allowed that shooting on the bridge!”

“Enough!!!” Marinette shouted, banging both fists on the table.

Adrien let Nathaniel go reluctantly, after which both guys stepped away from each other, still exchanging murderous stares.

“Enough,” she repeated. “In both cases, the choice was mine and mine alone. You could not have stopped me, so the only one to blame is me. You both understand, I hope?”

Silence fell over the room. No one hurried to answer Marinette’s question. No one was about to forgive the other. Maybe later, but not now, with the fear for Marinette’s life driving out every feeling except fury and jealousy. Breathing hard, the two men were exchanging wordless insults.

Until the silence was broken by Chloé’s voice:

“God damn it, who ever gave you these superpowers of yours?”


	17. Truth and Lies

Absolutely no mood for sleeping. Adrien knew the accusations presented by Kurtzberg most definitely weren’t unfounded. Damn, a day didn’t pass without him accusing himself of these very things! Which is why he couldn’t understand; how come Marinette forgave him so easily?

“Awake?” he heard the quiet voice of his beloved, sleeping in her bed for the first time in seven years.

“My Lady would like me to join her?” Adrien tried to make his tone as nonchalant as possible. Marinette did allow him to sleep in the same room as her, even if he did take the couch, and that made him incredibly happy already. Hoping for more was too much for him.

“Doesn’t object, in any case,” she mumbled sheepishly, making the blond choke.

“The Princess _is_ aware that the Cat who used to dream about her for so many years isn’t a teddy bear, right?” Adrien asked carefully as he rose from the sofa.

“One more question like that,” Marinette’s voice was even quieter now, due to the bashful girl hiding under the blanket, “and the Kitty will sleep on a rug as a kitty should.”

Adrien only needed a couple of seconds to climb the ladder and take the place next to his love. He hugged her tight, as if trying to convey how much he’d been waiting for the moment. The blushing Marinette flicked him on the nose and leaned in for a kiss.

Alas, they got no chance to continue.

“Marinette, Madame Zhou is calling!”

For the first time in her life, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng hated the red kwami.

***

Even before she answered the older woman’s call, Marinette had guessed it had to do with Antoine Pierrot’s death. Madame Zhou, who had learned about both the factory owner being found dead and Emma Lee having left her flat the same day, was afraid for the life of the former heroine of Paris.

“I’m the one who dragged you into this, child,” a tired voice came out of the phone. “and would have never forgiven myself had anything happened to you.”

“Currently, I am under Chat Noir’s solid protection,” Marinette answered, running her delicate fingers through Adrien’s golden locks, as he was using her belly as a pillow. “As is the rest of Paris. So, no need to worry; we won’t allow Liu Jin to take over the Triad, will find that damn package and…”

“It might be more dangerous than we thought,” Madame Zhou interrupted. “We still don’t know the motives of the third side. Please be careful. Paris must not lose her heroes.”

Having said goodbye to her savior, Marinette started answering Adrien’s questions. He, of course, really did want to continue where they left off, yet even more than that, he wanted to know how his beloved had been doing all these years. She told him how, six years ago, she woke up in an underground clinic, connected to some medical devices; how Tikki flew out of her hiding place and, crying, told her that a year had passed; how she, afraid to cause trouble for her family and friends, had decided to start a new life. Adrien was surprised as the heroine of Paris having been saved by mafia people, but promised to personally thank Madame Zhou for everything she had done for Marinette.

“I think I heard the name of Emma Lee somewhere,” Agreste reflected once Marinette told him about receiving the new ID.

“Not just heard, you have personally modeled clothes made according to my sketches,” the girl smiled, remembering how well Adrien looked in a particular suit the design of which she had sold to _Gabriel_.

“I’m a moron,” the guy admitted once again. How many times did he have the chance to find his love, only to lose it due to his own inattention? Every day at the collège, every time her sketches arrived at his father’s company, at the funeral, at the factory…

“Let’s not talk about it,” Marinette whispered tenderly, scratching Adrien under the chin.

“So you don’t deny me being a _murrr_ on?” he spoke in pretend indignity.

“Should I have?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I would have _mew_ st _purr_ ferred it.”

Marinette was surprised at how easily she accepted Chat Noir being Adrien Agreste. Had she learned it while at school, she would have probably thrown a tantrum, blaming her partner for shattering her dreams. Now she was ready to thank destiny for both men being one and the same. She didn’t care that the thoroughly despised Gabriel Agreste was his father. She didn’t need his money and fame. It didn’t matter one bit to Marinette that her love was the most eligible bachelor of Paris while outside the mask, and the dream of the majority of French women the rest of the time.

He made her feel good and safe, and that was more important than anything. For the first time in six years, Marinette knew she could fall asleep without fearing the dreams about a tinted car window sliding down, and then her old scars flashing with pain.

Adrien was asleep, hugging Marinette’s legs. He looked positively angelic while sleeping (due to not punning, for starters), and so peaceful that a single look at him was enough to make all her worries gone. She could only guess about how much Noir had suffered without her.

Once again, his morning reaction to their long overdue reunion appeared in front of her eyes. The hero of Paris was trembling, sobbing, looking like a defenseless kitten anyone would want to cuddle out of pity. In secret from Adrien, Plagg had whispered to Marinette that when it came to sedatives, his charge took more pills than meals, nearly forcing her into tears as well once she realized it all happened because of her mistake.

All that Marinette was living for over these years, turned out to be pointless.

Adrien had still learned about his father’s deeds, and now he also blamed himself to boot. Would Marinette ever be able to lighten the burden of his guilt, to calm down his conscience, to make him look at himself as if nothing terrible had ever happened to her? Would she ever correct her own mistakes, and once again become part of her family’s and friends’ lives? Stop running away from the real her, return to the position of the heroine of Paris, and stop reliving the nightmares chasing her since she was eighteen?

As her beloved’s soft breath lulled her to sleep, Marinette was hoping she would.

***

He didn’t want to leave his love alone even for a second, but he had already been ignoring his heroic duties for a full day. Excusing himself with urgent feline business which prevented him from answering Monsieur Bourgeois’ call immediately, Chat Noir arrived at the location where Antoine Pierrot’s body had been found. The businessman’s office was cordoned off by the police, but the hero was let in with no questions asked. Alain Dupree, whom Noir had notified of his arrival an hour in advance, was waiting inside already.

“Is your ‘feline’ business more important than the threat of gang wars?” was the police chief’s not-quite-greeting.

“A lot more,” the hero didn’t joke around this time. “What was the cause of death? It is, as far as I understand, a murder?”

Monsieur Dupree nodded and handed a folder to Chat. The official news did say that the textile magnate had been found dead, but the cause of death wasn’t stated. From the papers given to him, the hero learned that Antoine Pierrot had been poisoned.

“The autopsy results should be ready by the end of the week,” Alain Dupree explained once Noir read through the files. “But we’re definitely dealing with a murder. I can only say that, most likely, it’s an arsenic poisoning.”

“No idea about the name of the _murrr_ derer?” the hero asked, looking at a white moth sitting on the police chief’s shoulder.

“Were everything so simple, we wouldn’t have asked for your help, Monsieur Chat,” Dupree answered indignantly. The moth flapped its wings, as if trying to draw attention.

Noir gave a barely perceptible nod to indicate he received the signal. He resented cooperating with Hawk Moth (albeit a different one), but for the sake of Marinette and Paris, he was doing it. It’s unlikely that, had the moth not been here, Chat Noir would have realized he was being lied to. Unfortunately, understanding the motives of this lie wasn’t currently possible, but even so, Noir felt a certain advantage.

The hero of Paris was no blind kitten to be led in circles.

“ _Purr_ bably connected to the fac _purr_ y shooting,” Noir suggested, keeping his eyes on the sensor moth. The butterfly was still, so Chat continued his reflections. “Perhaps Liu Jin is behind the murder?” not a flutter. “Or was it another candidate for the leader’s position? Xiao Lu, I think…” zero reaction again. “A third side?” the butterfly fluttered its wings weakly, indicating Monsieur Dupree was nervous. “Or that shade I was chasing all over the town?” Noir only told it to avoid suspicion; he knew that ‘shade’ was the very last person capable of the murder.

And yet, despite all the hero’s expectations, it was that phrase which caused the strongest reaction from the moth. Hawk Moth had an amazing ability; his winged minions could only be seen either by ones who had a Miraculous power, or the ones ‘allowed’ to by the master. Invisible to outsiders, the white-winged moth was flapping like it had a major seizure, displaying the emotional storm hidden behind the police chief’s stony face.

For some reason, Alain Dupree was certain that the one behind Antoine Pierrot’s murder was the mysterious girl who ran out of the factory with the package. And for some reason, he didn’t want to show his certainty.

“You still haven’t de _purr_ mined who fled away from me on that mo _purr_ cycle?” Chat questioned. It appeared someone was leading the police astray, but his intuition was telling Noir that he shouldn’t indicate he is aware of that. Who knew; maybe Hawk Moth wasn’t the only one spying on their conversation?

“Alas,” Monsieur Dupree raised his arms. The moth’s folded wings indicated the man was truthful.

“And no idea who could be behind it?”

“No,” was the answer. ‘Yes’ – indicated the butterfly.

“And should I find these people?” Noir was keeping his eyes on the moth. How will the chief of police react to that question?

“I really hope you will, Monsieur Chat,” these words were sincere. “If they are connected to Monsieur Pierrot’s death – they must face the law for that. And if they have the missing package – it must under no circumstances end up in Liu Jin’s hands”

“And you still don’t know what was in the package?”

Another lie was the answer.

***

Saying goodbye to the chief of police, Chat Noir rushed to the bakery where his beloved should be waiting for him. The hero of Paris didn’t intend on wasting a second, allowed himself no distractions, leaped from roof to roof with but one thought; returning to _her_ as soon as possible.

Just a bit more, and Chat will hear her voice again, see her smile, hug her. Perhaps even continue what Madame Zhou’s night call had interrupted. Because of that volatile mixture of anticipation and embarrassment, the hero nearly fell into a gap between two roofs, but, grabbing at a drain pipe, pulled himself up and, pushing off the roof tiles, had continued on his way.

It’s been a long time since Chat Noir felt that happy. Starting yesterday, everything that happened seemed like a magical dream, so beautiful it took an enormous effort to believe it is real. And only the possibility of touching Marinette was forcing him to see himself as anything but a madman hallucinating that his dreams became reality.

Now he’s going to come back, greet his Lady with another pun and, with his feline audacity, steal a kiss as his Princess will be distracted rolling her eyes.

Chat caught himself thinking that it would be nice to buy some flowers… but didn’t want to waste any time stopping at a flower shop. After all, he could order the most marvelous bouquet from home, while holding his princess’s hand. Or, even better, with his head in her lap. Or…

Noir shook his head. Once again, lost in dreams, he almost stumbled. Every hitch like that was delaying their reunion, so Chat did his best to focus on the road ahead.

Except the image of the beautiful Princess was fogging up the faithful Knight’s head. The intoxicating smile, the scent Noir had been breathing in a mere couple hours ago, just wouldn’t leave his mind. Chat was running, feeling no tiredness, knowing that at the end of his path, the ultimate prize was awaiting him – the Lady whom he loved and who was willing to embrace him despite all the evil his father had done to her.

Landing on the roof of the building which was his home for the past five years, Chat slipped into Marinette’s room through the hatch.

She wasn’t there.

“My Lady?” he called worriedly.

She was supposed to wait for him here. She promised not to leave, not to vanish, not to disappear.

“Marinette?” Chat jerked the bathroom door opened, almost ripping it off.

Empty.

“Princess!” the girl wasn’t in the living room either.

The heart was almost leaping out of his chest from the hammering. The hero’s hands were trembling. His vision started going dark.

“Marinette!!!” the hero’s desperate scream was probably heard on the street.

Her parents’ bedroom was empty as well.

Trying to calm his trembling down, Chat hugged himself. She couldn’t have disappeared. Not now. Not again. Not right after he finally found her!

What if yesterday was a hallucination? What is he had dreamed it all up? What if Adrien didn’t really find his Lady…

“Are you okay?” his beloved’s worried voice made him spin around.

“Marinette!” the Princess almost fell from the happy Cat’s glomp. “I was so afraid that you disappeared again.”

“I was in the bakery,” the girl patted Noir’s head with a soft smile. “I wanted to check whether I can still make croissants.”

“You weren’t answering when I was calling,” he whispered with a frown.

“Sorry, Kitten,” Marinette answered, pressing up against him to show she was right here, not going anywhere. “I promise not to put on the headphones anymore.”

***

Nathalie Sancoeur was always responsible when it came to her job. She was proud of having the ‘iron’ adjective in her nickname and being considered a model secretary. More that once, Gabriel Agreste’s competitors had tried to lure her over to their side, promising her the moon, the stars, and unlimited power, along with better working conditions…

To be refused every time.

Nathalie was a professional, and the professional ethics did not allow her to betray the employer, even if she had to work several times more than the contract called for. Which is why, after a while, the numerous offers had stopped coming, even if no one had abandoned the hope of getting the perfect assistant.

It was no surprise, therefore, that Gabriel Agreste’s death served as a trigger, forcing Nathalie’s phone to once again explode with calls from potential employers. In a dissonant chorus, they all tried to convince the woman to leave the ‘sinking ship’, hinting at the young heir’s incompetence. Yet disappointment was awaiting them once more – Adrien Agreste gave up a third of his inheritance for Nathalie’ Sancoeur’s sake. The company control was now all but completely in her hands, and the _Gabriel_ ship was once again sailing smoothly along its business route.

At the same time, despite Nathalie being the co-owner of a fashion empire, she didn’t stop considering herself a professional secretary in service of the Agreste family. She promised herself to, first of all, support young Adrien, no matter the cost to her. And it had nothing to do with the fortune that suddenly dropped on her. The woman was sincerely empathizing with the boy who had gone through so much, and couldn’t help admiring that he, despite all that, was secretly protecting the city of Paris as Chat Noir. She wanted to be useful to the young man.

“Glad to see you alive and well, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng,” Nathalie greeted as she entered the door of ‘Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie’. On the inside, the woman was shaking from nervousness (the gone for seven years Ladybug, whom Sancoeur always admired, was standing in front of her!), but not a single muscle twitched on her face, nor did anything else indicate her true emotions.

Taking a deep breath, Nathalie followed Marinette into the living room, where she was greeted by Adrien Agreste, Mademoiselle Bourgeois and the redheaded guy she knew to be the current Hawk Moth. As a secretary, Sancoeur had been present on countless conferences and negotiations, but this was the first time she will participate in a meeting of the heroes of Paris. But she will manage.

Because Nathalie Sancoeur was a professional.

***

“So, what do we have?” Chloé Bourgeois was most enthusiastic, believing that since she has no superpowers, she should assume control of the ones who did.

Alas, she was alone in that opinion, because Nathaniel Kurtzberg interrupted her in a most shameless manner.

“I’ve been following Monsieur Dupree,” he said, mostly to Marinette, “but, unfortunately, I didn’t find out anything important.”

Thanks to the investigators and coroners, it was determined Antoine Pierrot had indeed been poisoned with arsenic, with someone having slipped the poison into the alcohol-loving textile magnate’s cognac. Alas, it was still a mystery who had done that. No fingerprints, nor any other clues capable of providing a single hint as to the criminal’s identity. Besides, the heroes were curious about not only the businessman’s death, but also Alain Dupree’s behavior. What motives did the chief of police have to hide the truth from Chat Noir?

“For some reason, he is one hundred percent certain that Pierrot was killed by Marinette. Or rather, that ‘mystery person’ who took the package from the factory.”

“Most likely because he doesn’t know that package was a dummy,” Dupain-Cheng spoke. “Which means that the real murderer is probably the one who took the real package.”

“And we, un _purr_ tunately, don’t have the slightest idea who _mew_ ght have done it.”

“What if Xiao Lu is the one behind it?” Nathalie suggested as she looked over the ‘conference’ notes. “As far as I understand, after Liu Jin, he’s the main candidate for the branch leader.”

“Madame Zhou believes that Xiao Lu isn’t the type to dirty his hands with such business,” the former heroine of Paris objected, but not everyone agreed with the argument.

“My lady,” Adrien took Marinette’s hand, “I am truly grateful to Madame Zhou for saving your life, but we don’t know how far she can be trusted. She is Triad herself, after all.”

“And she’s been hiding you even from the police,” Bourgeois supported her friend. “Perhaps she has some ulterior motives.”

“Madame Zhou keeps a lot to herself, but is genuinely concerned for Marinette’s well-being,” Nathaniel contributed to the discussion. “And, judging from her emotional state, has nothing to do with it.”

“Xiao Lu has nothing to do with it, Madame Zhou has nothing to do with it,” Chloé sighed. “Who is left?”

“ _Purr_ one thing, there is no complete guarantee they have nothing to do with it,” Adrien kept insisting. “ _Purr_ another, this might be Liu Jin or someone we don’t know about at all. And that someone intends to frame up Marinette, accuse her of stealing the package and murdering Monsieur Pierrot, while they intend to come out clean and _purr_ tainly take charge of the Triad.”

“Monsieur Agreste, perhaps we should look from another angle,” Sancoeur suggested. “Under the circumstances, it makes sense that Monsieur Dupree believe ‘the Shade’ was the murderer, but it seems strange to me that he is so certain Liu Jin has nothing to do with it.”

“It probably has to do with what was in the package,” Marinette spoke with the confidence of Ladybug. “Perhaps it’s because Monsieur Dupree knows the contents that he’s certain the thief is also the murderer. And since he doesn’t know the package was switched before the factory shooting, these are the conclusions he reached.”

“And once again, we’re back where we began,” Kurtzberg leaned tiredly against the back of his chair. “The search for the one who stole that stupid package.”

“Can’t these… kwamis… of yours help?” Chloé asked as she glanced toward the three tiny being napping on a soft pillow. Even though she knew Plagg for five years now, she still treated the kwamis as something special.

“Tikki said she doesn’t have the slightest idea on the matter,” Marinette stated sadly. “Nooroo cannot track the butterflies without Nathaniel, and Plagg, as far as I understand, is only interested in Camembert.”

“I tried organizing all the data we have,” Nathalie reported as she put on the table a few sheets of paper filled with fine writing. “Perhaps that will clear things up a bit.”

Three heroes and one mayor’s daughter leaned over the summaries.

Nathalie had handled the matter with her full professionalism, assembling a mini-dossier of every person somehow connected to the Chinatown mess or the murder of Antoine Pierrot. The conclusion from her analysis was that the contents of the package were probably known to Alain Dupree and Liu Jin, yet remained a mystery for the heroes and Madame Zhou. The package could decide the balance of power in the Chinese mafia, so the logical conclusion was that Liu Jin didn’t have it at the moment, since he was yet to assume leadership. The same as true for Xiao Lu, who was quite as a mouse at the moment. The most likely version was that yet another side was involved, one responsible for the factory shooting and the stealing of the real package. And most likely, these people got rid of Antoine Pierrot, who most likely had been their tool, considering the factory building was his.

Except that who these people were, and what were their motives, the heroes didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder:
> 
> Liu Jun:  
> \- The chief candidate for the position of the head to the Paris branch of the Chinese mafia;  
> \- A very dangerous person; trafficking drugs, weapons, humans and human organs;  
> \- Must under no circumstances take over the Triad;  
> \- Probably knows what the mystery package contained;
> 
> Madame Zhou:  
> \- A Triad member;  
> \- The patron of the Parisian courtesans;  
> \- Saved Marinette’s life seven years ago;  
> \- Her motive; not allowing Liu Jin to take over, and intercepting the package;  
> \- To achieve that, she turned to Ladybug (being aware of her identity);  
> \- Doesn’t know what the package contained;
> 
> Madame Yu:  
> \- Madame Zhou’s right hand;  
> \- Can break into a locked apartment (and more);  
> \- Has a most disagreeable temper;  
> \- Is disliked by Tikki;
> 
> Xiao Lu:  
> \- A candidate for the position of the head to the Paris branch of the Chinese mafia;  
> \- Uses his capabilities as a Triad member to help the Chinese diaspora of Paris;  
> \- According to Madame Zhou, relatively harmless;
> 
> Alain Dupree:  
> \- The chief of Police;  
> \- Only had one unsolved case in all his years of work;  
> \- His motive; not allowing for bloody gang wars from the Triad power struggle and intercepting the mystery package;  
> \- For that, he turned to Chat Noir;  
> \- Does know what the package contained.


	18. Silence of the Kittens

The meeting lasted almost until midnight, but all the brainstorming brought very little result. Well, maybe Adrien and Nathaniel cut down on trying to kill each other with their glares, while Nathalie, having had enough, asked Agreste to cut down on the puns, in which she received Marinette’s full support. It was quite an emotional reaction Dupain-Cheng had to Sancoeur’s request, starting with the words ‘Now’s no time for jokes’ and ending with ‘As you see, I’m not the only one it annoys’, making Adrien, with a slight twinge of anger, ultimately switch to normal language.

Except Cats tend to be vindictive creatures. And proud ones. Should anyone underestimate the value of their wordplay – they’ll either continue to shoot out puns until the opponent admits defeat, or keep silent.

 Noir chose the second option.

Agreste started carrying out his plan of playing the quiet game as soon as everyone left, but regretted it the moment he realized who his opponent was. Adrien was set to lose from the start; after all, there was no damn way he could ignore his Lady. Yet even so, he had no intention to surrender right away, no matter the cost and effort to himself.

“Nate and Chloé seem to be getting along well,” Marinette reflected as she poured herself a glass of water. “Don’t you think so?”

Adrien blatantly turned away and bit his lip, so as not to accidentally say ‘yes’.

“Chat?” Marinette, who didn’t even suspect he was upset with her, raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Is everything okay?”

In order to once again reply with silence, Agreste was forced to pinch himself.

But now, the big guns were brought in. Putting the glass aside, Marinette walked to stand in front of Adrien and, looking into his eyes, asked:

“Kitty, why aren’t you talking to me?”

He averted his eyes guiltily.

“Noir,” his Lady’s demanding voice made him flinch and lose all resolve to continue that meaningless game. “What is it?”

“It’s cruel, forbidding cats to meow,” Adrien muttered, making Marinette chuckle nervously.

“You’re a human,” she reminded.

“He’s an idiot,” Plagg tried to enter the conversation, but, facing two most expressive stares, hurried to phase into the fridge for more Camembert.

“So, you’re angry at me?” Marinette decided to clarify, once sure they won’t be disturbed; Tikki was still asleep, and Plagg should have enough cheese to last awhile. “And someone, I believe, did insist he could never be angry at me. Are your words worth so little?”

Agreste’s eyes went round with terror. He didn’t even notice his Lady was smirking as she spoke. The only thought stuck in his head was shouting that he had ruined everything. What if Marinette starts doubting his feelings? What if she decides to be angry at him herself? Adrien won’t be able to handle the Princess ignoring him! Not after he had finally found her and tasted true happiness!

“Kitty?” the flickering of his beloved’s hand being waved in front of his face, pulled him out of his reflections.

“My Lady, forgive me!” he shot out, grabbing Marinette by her waist and pulling the girl closer. “I wasn’t thinking.”

She sighed wearily and ran her fingers through his hair. That four day old (that’s how long she’d been home) habit of messing up his golden locks was already an integral part of her new life.

“You do realize that your catpuns are killing all the seriousness of the situation?” Marinette asked as softly as possible.

“They’re actually putting me in working mood,” Adrien answered, slowly sliding his right hand from Marinette’s waist a bit lower. Since no reaction followed, the left hand soon found its way to his beloved’s thigh as well.

“Putting you in,” the girl agreed, grabbing a few locks near their base and imagining her love with two high pigtails. “And the others out,” she added, trying not to laugh.

“But you will love _meow_ even like that, right?” emerald eyes looked at the Princess both beggingly and hopefully.

“Do I even have a choice, Silly Kitty?” Marinette snickered, pecking Agreste’s cheek.

A wide, happy grin once again spread on Adrien’s face. Sincere, unconcealed happiness he, it seems, didn’t believe he would ever feel again, was overfilling the love-stricken boy as he held his dream in his arms. As little as a week ago, he could never have dreamed such a thing will happen, yet now Marinette wasn’t just by side, wasn’t just allowing him to love here, but was reciprocating Adrien’s feelings as well.

Looking into his princess’s eyes, he allowed himself to hope for a bright future, the thoughts of which he seemed to have buried so long ago. Could it be that the dreams with which he’d been consoling himself during the lonely nights, imagining what will happen once the Cat finds his Lady, will come true? Will the seven ears of suffering give way to the long-awaited happiness?

“My Lady,” Adrien slid his hands back to his love’s waist and licked his lips, dry from anxiety, “what happens next?”

“You’re asking me?” Marinette flicked Adrien on the nose, making him wince before he, seeing her smile, beamed in happiness like a baby. “Weren’t you the one promising me everything will be okay?”

“Most _purr_ tainly it will be,” Adrien tried to give another one of his smug feline grins, but the worry in his voice was obvious despite the catpun.

Marinette closed her eyes, thinking the question over. Meanwhile, Agreste was watching, captivated, as the shifting thoughts of his love were followed by the emotions on her face. A dimple appearing between the slightly frowning eyebrows. A twitch of the corners of her lips, rising in a dreamy smile. A slight wrinkling of her little nose, a jerk of her closed eyelids, the habit of biting her lip coming back again… A relaxed sigh, and then a smile again.

“I want to become Marinette Dupain-Cheng again,” the young woman spoke at last, opening her eyes.

“Aren’t you Marinette Dupain-Cheng now?” Adrien grinned. “Or is it still Emma Lee standing before me?”

“I mean,” she said in an embarrassed whisper, “I decided to come back officially. I want to see Alya and tell her I’m alive. I want to hug Mom and Dad. I want to meet every single one of my old friends and learn how they’re doing. I want to answer to my own name again without fearing someone will recognize me. And… I want to become a famous designer.”

“That’ll be piece of cake,” Adrien caressed his beloved’s hair. “My Princess is most talented, and will show all the snobbish critics who’ll be setting the fashion trends for decades to come.”

“That, Kitty, is a bit overdoing it,” Marinette laughed aloud, letting herself believe for a second that her love’s words will come true.

“You’ll have the best _meow_ del of _Purr_ ris,” he winked, making her laugh even louder, “And that’s half the success already.”

“And,” the young woman continued once done laughing, “I want to be Ladybug again. I want to protect the city by your side.”

“That will have to be _paw_ stponed,” Adrien objected. “By my calculations, you’ll be able to return to the position of Ladybug in five years at the earliest. Or seven. Depends.”

“Why,” the former heroine was genuinely surprised. Was there something important she didn’t know about?

“Well… as soon as everything is over,” he scratched the tip of his nose in embarrassment, “We’re going to get married, have kittens… and I’m not allowing you to leap the roofs while pregnant.”

Marinette choked at hearing that. That Furball had already decided everything for her! The girl shook her head, having no idea how to even respond. Also, the sight of the young man, looking embarrassed, guilty and anticipating at the same time, wasn’t exactly helping one to speak her mind clearly.

Taking a few deep breaths, in order to calm the raging emotions and remove all hint of stuttering (she’s twenty-five, not sixteen; also, her pride will never allow her to stutter in front of Chat again!), Marinette did manage to give an answer to the feline impudence.

“Adrien, didn’t you forget something?” she inquired. “To propose, for example?”

He kept looking at her with an angelically innocent face. Even his eyes were radiating utter sincerity.

“You wrote in the diary that you wish to be my wife,” Adrien answered as he scratched the back of his head, “well, your wish is my command.”

“How noble,” Marinette snickered.

“The Knight is willing to do anything for his Princess.”

“And the Knight didn’t consider that in seven years, the Princess might have changed her mind?” she asked, folding her arms.

“But you haven’t, right?” Adrien put his palms together in a gesture of begging and turned another hopeful gaze at his Lady.

“Right,” Marinette answered, and Agreste leaned in for a kiss the same moment.

***

It took Adrien the greatest of efforts to tear himself off the so delicious lips of his Princess. It took even more effort to keep away once he found Marinette leaning in to continue.

“Wait,” he whispered, putting his fingers to the Lady’s lips. “Turn off your phone. I’ll do the same. Because if we get interrupted again, I’m going to break something.”

Marinette nodded as she pulled the battery out of her smartphone.

“Just to be sure,” she explained.

Adrien grinned and did the same to his own phone. Now – he was really hoping – nothing could interrupt them anymore.

He sat on the dinner table, pulling his beloved closer. His hands on her waist, he was peppering the Princess’s lips with kisses, then moved on to her cheek, trailed up to the corner of her left eye, gave her a kiss on the forehead, then moved to the corner of the right eye, and slid down the right cheek back to her lips again.

Marinette took the initiative now. Red with embarrassment, the girl dodged her love’s next kiss with a sly grin. The next second, her hot breath scorched Agreste’s neck. Then, her naughty tongue licked his skin slightly.

Adrien felt his brain floating away into the unknowable infinity.

His Lady – that seductive predator – pressed against his neck greedily. A lick, then a light kiss, then a passionate hickey. And then a repeating of the ritual.

Once another strained groan escaped Adrien’s lips, the guy decided to once again take matters into his own hands. Well, lips.

Catching a moment when his Princess made a pause to breath, he leaned down to lightly bite her earlobe. Hearing her ragged gasp, Adrien, whispering ‘Love!’ into her ear, started descending down the neck, marking her as his through hickeys.

Agreste was praising the day he decided to stop cutting his hair short. Feeling Marinette’s delicate fingers running through his locks, pulling lightly, squeezing from the delight Adrien’s kisses gave his Princess, was pleasure beyond belief. His own hands, meanwhile, were busy with a task just as important; mapping the so desired territory under his beloved’s shirt. Millimeter after millimeter, his fingers went higher and higher until stumbling upon a lacy obstacle.

The first attempt to defeat the bra clasp failed.

Adrien was even forced to break away from his beloved’s neck in order to concentrate on the complicated ‘device’.

On the fifth try, the female lingerie surrendered before the triumphant hero.

“Kitty, don’t you think it would have been simpler to take off my shirt first?” Marinette inquired before kissing his temple.

Agreste didn’t delay. Gripping the hem of his love’s shirt, he quickly yet carefully pulled it off her as if he had been undressing someone every day. Even though today was the first time.

His beloved’s shirt flew away to disappear behind the sofa, Then, Adrien’s own shirt followed, courtesy of Marinette. And then, the lacy bra of the former heroine found its way to the floor.

Now, nothing was keeping Agreste from the sight of his love’s chest, of which he’d been dreaming since he was sixteen.

Except it wasn’t the flawless peaks which drew his attention first, but the whitish scars, one of which was located right under Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s right breast.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Adrien touched the elongated mark carefully.

“It’s fine,” Marinette whispered softly, seeing the desire on his face replaced with guilt.

Agreste nodded sluggishly and shifted the gaze to his love’s flat abdomen, which was carrying a total of three reminders about the bridge incident. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, he traced each of them with his fingers before flinching at her touching his cheek.

“It’s all good,” Marinette repeated, caressing her beloved’s cheek.

“Forgive me,” Adrien spoke in a barely audible whisper, his head on her shoulder. “Forgive me for failing to protect you.”

“We’ve discussed it already,” Marinette hugged her beloved, feeling a wave of goosebumps running over her body as her naked chest touched his skin. “It’s none of your fault.”

Adrien hummed something in response before hugging his Lady even tighter. Her wounds might have healed years ago, but the scars were still there, and would forever remind of the troubles Marinette had suffered thanks to his father. Despite her insisting everything was fine, Adrien couldn’t fully agree. He dreamed of their lives being one, of them having kids, but… what if one of them asks where Mommy got these scars? Will Adriel be able to explain to his own child that his grandpa had nearly killed his mother? And if not, will he have the strength to lie?

The reminder of Gabriel Agreste’s deeds will remain forever engraved on the heroine’s body in seven pearl-white scars. Just like the ones she must be carrying in her soul.

“Adrien,” Marinette’s gentle voice once again pulled him out of the sad thoughts, “If you continue like that, I’ll have to blindfold you every time.”

The Lady’s words were miraculous, restoring Agreste’s happy mood at once.

“Every time?” he asked back with the slyest grin. “We’re yet to get to the next stage, and the _Purr_ incess already wants a repeat?”

“You did say we’re going to have kittens,” Marinette’s wink made him choke on air. “Or did you change your mind?” she arched an eyebrow skeptically.

“Never!” Adrien shot out before happily before grabbing his beloved and spinning with her in an improvised dance, each spin bringing them closer to the stairs leading to Marinette’s room.

And the ‘next stage’ awaiting them there.


	19. No need for explanations

The last thing Adrien wanted was leaving the warm embrace of his beloved. However, an incoming SMS from Nino, stating him and Alya are coming over to the bakery, forced Agreste to get out of the bed while making all possible effort not to wake up his sleeping Lady. The last time he talked to his friend had been two months ago, while Gabriel was still alive, so it was likely the conversation won’t be an easy one. They will probably be apologizing about not being at the funeral (even though Adrien was perfectly aware just _how_ valid the reason was) and expressing their totally unnecessary condolences. He had no idea how to hide from his friends the still simmering hatred toward his late father, along with the overwhelming happiness at Marinette finally being with him. Yet now, with Nathalie having almost tracked the perpetrator’s account, and Noir being closer than ever to getting the bastards who dared to try killing his Lady, he could not afford a failure. Chloé was right; the fact of Marinette being alive will have to remain a secret a bit longer.

Having warned Tikki and Plagg to keep Marinette upstairs until the guests leave, Adrien left a breakfast for his Princess on the desk, and headed down to the bakery, to wait for his friends.

A multicolored pickup truck (who but Lahiffe would in their right mind paint a car with balloons?) parked right in front of the house, one wheel on the sidewalk. Not for the first time, Adrien wondered how Alya even allowed Nino to drive a car.

“Whatever rocks his boat, so long as the music volume doesn’t rock the car,” Madame-Lahiffe-for-a-year-now answered Adrien’s unspoken question instead of a greeting.

Nino, meanwhile, having fixed his cap, silently patted his best friend’s shoulder. His face had that idiotic supporting smile saying “whatever happens, bro, I’m with you.”

For the first time in six and a half years, Agreste smiled back.

Not a word exchanged, the two went upstairs to the living room. None of them, including the feisty Alya, knew where to start.

It might have been because the Lahiffes had missed Gabriel Agreste’s funeral, thus Nino and Alya were blaming themselves for abandoning their friend at a hard moment. It might have been because over the last few years, their meetings became so rare that too many conversation topics had accumulated to pick one. Or it could all be because half a year after Marinette’s funeral, Adrien had changed completely, raising an invisible yet impassable wall between him and his friends. Or maybe it was all these things at once.

Adrien didn’t know what to say either. Ever since Marinette’s return, he was alive again, feeling the desire to communicate with others and being sorry for distancing himself from Nino and Alya. A year ago, he had missed their wedding with the words ‘how can they enjoy life when Marinette’s yet to be found?’, even though they couldn’t have known she is alive. Now Adrien was realizing how stupid it was. Life was continuing, time went on, and he, trapped in the past, didn’t notice it. When his Lady had asked him how Alya was doing, he couldn’t even give a coherent answer.

Besides, he still had to hide the fact of Marinette having been found. At any other time, he would have recruited his friends to help, since Alya’s reporter talent would have definitely been a help in searching for the criminals. But now, he couldn’t allow himself to drag the Lahiffes into this.

“Congratulations on the newcomer,” Agreste’s voice finally broke the silence. “Sorry for not even calling.”

“So long as you forgive us for not being at the funeral,” Nino sighed, leaning back on the sofa. “You’re not upset at us, right?”

“Are you asking whether I’m upset at you for not abandoning your wife while she was giving birth?” Adrien snickered. “That hurts.”

“Actually, he did intend to come over,” Alya stated as she took her phone out of the bag, “But once he saw the baby girl, he fainted on the spot. I’ve even got the video.”

“Shut up, woman,” the embarrassed Lahiffe grabbed the phone out of his wife’s hands. “When will you stop filming everything? And, more importantly,” the man was whispering now, “showing everyone.”

Adrien’s reaction to the words made Nino drop the phone and Alya put her hands over her mouth in shock. For the first time in all these years…

…Adrien Agreste let out a genuine, real laugh.

***

Alya Lahiffe couldn’t believe her eyes. She couldn’t believe her ears. Was Adrien Agreste, a man who had resembled a zombie more than a person for the past six and a half years, laughing?

No, something was definitely weird about him. In the collège, he had hardly noticed Marinette, yet half a year after her death, he grieved as if she had always been the center of his universe. For so many years, he behaved as if the world lost its colors for him; even the last time they met, two months ago, he didn’t appear to care about anything. Yet now, here was the same Adrien they knew seven years ago, perhaps even a happier one.

Over the last few years, every time they met, the discussion grew heated toward the end. The friends were trying to convince Adrien he must let the past go and live on, while he kept accusing them of daring to forget Marinette. Damn it, no one was forgetting her! Alya kept hoping to find her best friend’s murderers, was regularly leafing through the photos of them together, and brought flowers to her grave every year. She even named her newborn daughter Marie in her honor; she didn’t dare to give her the full name, afraid the baby might share the bad luck as well. But Alya knew you can’t live on memories alone. Marinette would not have wanted that. She had always been kind, full of life; she would not have wanted – of that Alya was certain – for anyone to suffer because of her death.

What could have happened to Adrien, to make him finally let her go?

Did his father’s death affect him like that?

Weird. Extremely weird.

Her reporter’s sense was screaming it must be more than that, and her feminine intuition kept echoing its words.

Not a month had passed since Adrien lost his only living relative, yet now he looked as if life was a beautiful fairy tale. Damn it, during their school years, his father’s opinion was everything to him, he was always trying to please him, yet now he doesn’t seem sad about his death one little bit!

Alya, of course, was glad to have her friend alive and back, but she had to know the reason for such a change. It wasn’t curiosity speaking, but genuine concern for Adrien.

“Bro, is everything okay?” Madame Lahiffe wasn’t the only one worried about Adrien.

“Umm, yes,” Adrien answered, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. Alya got the impression he was regretting his reaction. But why would one regret a genuine laugh?

“You look alive,” Alya stated cautiously. Who knew how he would react to this observation? For years now, any conversation with him had been as risky as a minefield.

“Thanks,” that was the warmest smile she had ever seen on him. Ever. “Tom made me promise not to wallow, so I’m doing my best.”

“As far as I know, he made you promise that five years ago,” unlike his wife, Nino tended to shoot out whatever was on his mind right away. “Did you finally decide to let Marinette go?”

The warm smile on Adrien’s face instantly twisted into irritation. Not for the first time, Alya was grateful her husband was a DJ instead of a sapper.

“Don’t. Go there,” Adrien said through gritted teeth.

“Bro, you live in her parents’ house, you sleep in her bed,” Lahiffe didn’t relent. “That’s not normal. You do realize it.”

“Do you mean I’m bonkers?” Adrien grinned, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I…”

“But you said I’m not normal.”

“I said it’s not normal to sleep in the bed of a classmate who’s been dead for seven years,” Nino snarled.

“She’s alive!” Adrien shouted in desperation before standing up and turning his back to the window. “They never found her body,” how many times did he say these words already? Enough for Alya to know what his next words are going to be. “But it was easier for you to bury Marinette than to wait for her to return.”

Alya also knew what her husband was going to answer:

“And for you, it was simpler to wind up and fill her parents’ heads with meaningless hope!”

“Let’s see you say that once you see her alive,” Adrien banged his fist on the table. Madame Lahiffe knew that, should she not interfere now, everything will end up as usual. They came here to support a friend who lost his father, not fight him again because of Marinette.

But before Alya could say anything, her gaze fell upon an unusual object lying under the table. No, not that the object itself was unusual, but it being under a table most certainly was. Slowly, the woman crouched and took the curious thing with two fingers.

“Adrien,” Madame Lahiffe asked as she displayed your finding to the men. “Is there something you want to tell us?”

Both guys forgot at once that they were just in the middle of an argument. Nino’s eyes were round with surprise. Adrien choked and went red from embarrassment. Alya arched an eyebrow questioningly, hoping to learn how come she just found a lacy bra, which definitely didn’t belong to Sabine Cheng, and even more definitely not to Agreste or Tom Dupain.

“That’s none of your concern,” Adrien tried to act nonchalantly, for all the good it did with his cheeks still aflame.

“You spent the night with a girl?” Nino said, in shock from the unexpected discovery. “A real, breathing girl, rather than memories of Marinette?”

Agreste averted his gaze, as is that fact wasn’t what he intended to tell his friends.

Alya bit her lip. She believed it her duty to figure out what the situation was all about, especially considering it appeared weirder by the minute. After all, Nino had tried countless times to make Adrien notice living girls, yet each attempt was met with his friend aggressively refusing to think of anyone but Marinette. Almost every such conversation ended with Agreste having to be fed sedatives. What could have happened to Adrien since they last met? Could his morning joyfulness be connected to that girl? Or was it the other way around; him coming to life first, and feeling the need for a woman’s warmth next?

“Congrats bro!” Nino clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Who is she? Are you introducing her?”

“Not now?” Adrien grumbled before finally grabbing the bra out of Alya’s hands and shoving it into a kitchen cabinet, away from everyone’s eyes.

Alya was really hoping Agreste won’t forget about it, otherwise Sabine, once she returns from China, will have a most peculiar ‘surprise’.

But while Nino was sincerely happy for his friend, his wife was really worried about something.

“Adrien,” Alya sighed, looking at him inquisitively, “I do realize it’s good that you’re alive again… But… doing it here, in _her_ house – don’t you think it’s too much?”

“For the past five years – that’s my house as well,” Adrien answered coldly. “I am never behind on paying my rent for the room upstairs.”

The realization struck Alya in a wave of fury. The woman was really hoping that the guess which flashed in her head was false. God, please let it be true that they were only tumbling around in the living room rather than upstairs. Please, just not in Marinette’s room, just not in her bed. Damn it, that sick moron won’t dare to defile Dupain-Cheng’s memory like that, dragging some skank into her bed? It’s enough that Adrien himself, like the most perverted stalker, had commandeered Marinette’s room.

Alas, Alya’s guesses were proven right before she could voice the question; something crashed to the floor in the room upstairs, proving it wasn’t empty.

“Damn you, Agreste, what’s that supposed to mean?” Madame Lahiffe was furious. Marinette – her dear friend – most definitely deserved better than the guy she loved screwing some random girl in her bed! “Are you completely out of your mind, you horny psycho?!”

Alya was breathing heavily, her fists clenched so hard the nails were cutting into her palms. She won’t let that slide. She will go upstairs herself, will shove that tart out of Marinette’s room, and will explain to her in the clearest language possible that she chose the wrong place for horizontal dancing. Even the fact of Adrien looking better than ever over the past few years could not justify what these two had been doing!

“You’re not going anywhere,” Agreste blocked Alya’s path toward the stairs.

“And why is that?” she snorted, crossing her arms.

“I’m not letting you,” Adrien answered, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and moving her away.

“Aren’t you ashamed, doing this in Marinette’s bed?” Alya didn’t relent, as she tried to go around him and up the stairs. Alas, without success. “Hey, you pipsqueak!” she shouted. “Come down here at once! I’ll show you…”

She wasn’t allowed to finish.

“It’s time, Alya,” Nino whispered guiltily as he took his wife’s hand. “Marlena just texted, the baby girl woke up.”

The young mother gritted her teeth. As much as she wanted to go upstairs and literally kick that girl outside, right now her little daughter needed her.

“This conversation isn’t over, Agreste,” Alya stated as she headed for the exit. With a weary sigh, her husband followed.

Next time they meet, Madame Lahiffe will tell Adrien everything she has to say. Damn the risk of new panic attacks, damn her husband begging to have mercy on his friend, damn anything… Even if Agreste will try to justify his actions, she’ll accept no excuses. She needs no explanations.

***

Not for the first time, Marinette caught herself thinking that along with the old name, her clumsiness came back as well. Seriously; Emma Lee would have never dropped a food tray, but Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng – definitely. Worst of all, both kwamis were asking her to sit quietly so as not to attract the attention of Adrien’s guests.

“Hey, you pipsqueak!” Marinette flinched at the painfully familiar voice.

Alya.

God, her best friend, Alya Césaire… no, Lahiffe now, according to Adrien, was flaming up with fury downstairs. It was so unusual, hearing her voice after so long!

Marinette gulped down the lump in her throat. She was torn between the desire to take off and run downstairs to crush her friend in a hug, and the determination not to put her life at risk. Adrien said Alya gave birth to a daughter a month ago, and Marinette didn’t want to drag her friend into mafia wars and the search for that perpetrator who had almost sent her to the grave seven years ago. Marinette knew; Alya will refuse to remain on the sidelines, and that could have the most horrible consequences.

And the information she got from Nathalie most certainly wasn’t promising anything good.

Hugging herself to stop the trembling, Marinette sat on the hatch so that no one will be able to enter her room.

Sancoeur had notified her that the money transfer had been tracked down.

A shadow of the seven years old event flashed through the former heroine’s mind at once. The memories of the bridge shooting past her eyes again. Damn it, how Marinette had hoped that now, with Chat Noir a part of her life again, she’ll be forever free of these nightmares!

Having returned home, she was feeling protected. When Adrien made it clear to her that he intends to find the ones who dared to point arms at his Lady, Marinette felt confidence again. But once meeting the person who had mercilessly shot her seven damned times became an actual _possibility_ , she felt vulnerable again. The long healed scars once again burned with terrible pain, the ground was slipping from under her feet, giving the young woman an illusion of endless falling (even though she was sitting on the floor), and then Marinette started suffocating, as if she was once again sinking through the icy waters of Seine.

She needed someone who could drive away the dream haunting her. Right now.

But Adrien was downstairs right now. Marinette couldn’t go down and hide from the nightmares in his arms. Tikki and Plagg were whispering something, but she wasn’t listening, praying silently for Chat to finish up with the guests with all haste and come back to her. Before she _drowns_ in the terrors of the past.   


***

“Marinette!” Noir’s voice was faint and distant. “Princess!” closer now, but still out of reach. “My Lady!”

The girl felt someone shaking her shoulders, and the next second, her gaze focused on Chat’s worried green eyes. Only then did the dark fog finally recede.

Marinette gave him a faint smile, doing her best to show she is fine, but Noir was in no hurry to let her go as he looked over her skeptically.

“Are they gone?” Marinette asked hoarsely, receiving an affirmative node as an answer. “Sorry for making noise.”

“God, Princess, it’s me who should be sorry for taking so long,” Chat hugged her tight to his chest, letting her hear how strongly his worried heart was beating.

“How did it go?” Marinette’s voice was much more alert now, making Noir sigh in relief before he released his love.

“I de _meow_ nd a kiss as com _paw_ nsation for now being considered a _purr_ vert,” a devious grin appeared on the hero’s face.

“And what should I demand as compensation for all these puns?” Dupain-Cheng chuckled.

“A kiss?” Chat suggested with a wink.

“Acceptable,” Marinette reached for her love’s lips, but, after a light peck, leaned back. “That’s enough,” she smiled deviously before flicking the surprised guy on the head. “Nathalie called while you were downstairs,” the young woman’s expression changed, “she finished tracking down your father’s money transfer.”

“So… the perpetrator has been found?” the hero of Paris grew serious in a heartbeat.

“Well, actually finding him is up to us now,” Marinette sighed. So weird; the moment Adrien appeared in front of her, all the fears disappeared at once. “Liu Jin is very good at hiding.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes:
> 
> A bit about why the fanfic is called "The Seven Misfortunes of Lady Fortune".  
> The number 7 is a symbol of luck. As such, in my mind, "Seven Misfortunes" is a combination of contradictory meaning. And considering a ladybug is supposed to be Luck, the "Lady Fortune" part was an attempt to increase the effect. Or simply overloading it with excessive words, considering I, myself, call the fic "Misfortunes" for short XD
> 
> Seven misfortunes are also the seven bullets Marinette took, and the seven years she spent away from her family and friends.
> 
> Also, the fic has seven story arcs, but I'll talk about that later. By the way, counting from the end, this is the seventh chapter ;)


	20. (Not) Trusting your intuition

Chat Noir was pacing across Nathaniel Kurtzberg’s room in irritation. Under any other circumstances, he would have spoken his mind very clearly about his Lady’s portraits covering every single wall, but right now, he was concerned about other things.

“Why the hell didn’t you find him yet?” green eyes flashed with unbridled fury.

“Because it’s hard to find someone when all you know is his name, and he himself is hiding from everyone god knows where,” Hawk Moth snapped back.

“And can’t you, for example, look into people’s hearts, eh?” Noir punched the wall (in one of the rare spots that had no portraits of his love). “You _are_ capable of telling truth from lies.”

“Alas, my butterflies cannot ask questions,” the redhead snarled out. “And if _you_ will, Liu Jin will learn of it at once, and then we won’t be able to find him at all.”

“You’re absolutely no help,” Chat sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wall.

“You can thank your daddy for tainting the Miraculous,” Kurtzberg grumbled in return before returning to his search for the elusive Chinese.

His moths were combing Paris day and night, but Liu Jin seemed to have disappeared from the face of Earth. Neither Madame Zhou, asked to help by Marinette, nor Monsieur Dupree, asked by Noir, could help their search either. The only thing Hawk Moth could determine was that Liu Jin hid himself from everyone the day Wang Bao and his brother were killed. And it appeared he didn’t hide because he was behind the murder, but because he was afraid of becoming the next in line.

Nate did hope he could find Liu Jin before the guy could be killed by whoever was responsible for the factory mayhem and the poisoning of Antoine Pierrot.

“What are you going to do once we find him?” Hawk Moth asked the currently silent Chat.

“Kill him,” Noir answered without hesitation. His tone was too steady for any doubts that he will.

“Marinette won’t approve,” Kurtzberg sighed as he detransformed to feed his kwami.

After the three years he spent next to Emma Lee, Nate knew her too well to need the moths for learning her opinion. He was perfectly aware; Marinette wouldn’t want blood on Adrien’s hands, even the blood of the person who gave her seven bullet wounds. No, of course she won’t be sorry about the premature death, but wouldn’t forgive herself for being the reason. She would rather have the would-be-murderer face justice, but that would require finding him and proving his guilt first.

“Are you with me?” Noir looked up at Nathaniel.

“I am,” he nodded. Even if he knew Marinette was against killing, even if he’ll have to cooperate with that annoying Chat Noir, he won’t allow Liu Jin to remain alive.

The one who dared to shoot Marinette didn’t deserve to live.

For once, Nate agreed with Chat.

***

Marinette rolled her eyes wearily. For god’s sake, she had promised not to disappear anywhere, and for the six days that passed since she returned, had kept the promise. So why was everyone acting like she’ll vanish for seven more years the moment someone looks away?

“Chloé, you don’t need to watch me,” she said once again, looking at the blonde, who was struggling to hold her yawn in.

“I have nothing else to do anyway,” Bourgeois slapped her own cheeks, hoping it will make her at least a bit more alert. “Can’t I sit with a friend I haven’t seen in a while?”

“Nothing else to do?” Marinette chuckled. She heard perfectly well how Chloé had cancelled a number of meetings and rescheduled today’s shooting due to being superbusy. It was obvious how inhumanly exhausted the mayor’s daughter was.

Bourgeois let out another yawn, and Dupain-Cheng, shaking her head, went up to take a quilt from her room. Not listening to any objections, she put her former classmate on the sofa, covered her, and smiled before she could say ‘sweet dreams’; Chloé was asleep already.

Marinette put the blonde’s phone on silent and, trying not to make any noise, went back to her room. Sketches weren’t going to draw themselves, and the recluse she became through her friends’ care had nothing else to do.

Until the very moment her phone’s chime notified her of an incoming call from Madame Zhou.

***

Having left a note on the table besides the sleeping Chloé, Marinette left the bakery with Tikki in her pocket. The girl decided not to call Adrien right away; she wasn’t intending to get into trouble again, merely to meet Madame Zhou. Once she had all the details, then she’ll call her loyal Kitty. Marinette wasn’t stupid enough to walk into the same lamppost twice and go into the enemy camp alone!

And discussing matters with her savior was best done face-to-face.

“Which is why I’m not doing anything reckless,” the former heroine whispered to her kwami once she exited the subway.

“Marinette, that’s the tenth time you are saying that,” Tikki noted. “Perhaps you should still call Adrien or Nathaniel?”

“Let’s not distract them,” the girl objected. “Besides, I left a note saying where I’m headed. Everything will be fine; I’m not doing anything reckless.”

The spotted deity shook her head and hid back in the pocket to avoid the eyes of any passersby.

There was indeed nothing reckless about visiting Madame Zhou; as Emma Lee, the girl had been visiting her savior at least once a month. Yet now, Marinette couldn’t help but worry. She struggled to convince herself the feeling was unfounded, based on nothing but the worries about the mafia problems, the murder of Antoine Pierrot and learning who it was that shot her seven times, which is why there was no threat to her, so there was no need to bother Noir yet.

Besides, Marinette had Tikki with her, and could always transform into Ladybug if necessary.

On the other hand, she had Tikki with her that day on the bridge, too.

The girl stopped for a second and shook her head to chase away the nightmare of the memory, before walking down the avenue leading to Madame Zhou’s house.

***

The feeling of worry grew the closer Marinette approached the gates of the two-story oriental mansion.

The silence was unnatural.

Madame Zhou lived on the second floor, and her charges often stayed over on the first. The house was normally full of female voices, laughter and sometimes even yelps. Yet now, the whole building was scarily quiet.

Perhaps, due to the importance of the discussion, Madame Zhou had asked everyone to clear the building for now? No, doesn’t sound like her. Last time, she simply decided to discuss the matter in her car.

Marinette clenched her teeth and placed a hand over Tikki’s pocket. The former heroine and her kwami had to be prepared for anything.

“Perhaps you should call Adrien?” the spotted being voiced the thought spinning in Marinette’s head for the past few minutes.

“Let’s find out what happened first,” once again, stubbornness won over.

Taking a deep breath for confidence, the girl touched the door handle. The main door opened at once, and Marinette entered. Trying to move as quietly as possible, she slowly tiptoed through the long corridor over to the stairs leading to the second floor. Her instincts kept saying she should first check the matters downstairs, but the girl didn’t want to waste time on it.

Adrien is going to be real mad.

***

“Adrien is going to be real mad,” Chloé sighed as she threw away Marinette’s note. Damn, she knew that headstrong girl had to be watched, but no; she gave in to exhaustion, now she had to pay.

The blonde grabbed her phone and, seeing there were no messages from Agreste, sighed in relief. He was yet to notice his beloved was missing, and that meant Chloé still had time to find and retrieve her.

‘Gone to Madame Zhou’s’ - just four words, yet how much trouble they spelled! Why couldn’t this Dupain-Cheng stay at home? And if it was urgent that she had to visit the Chinese woman, couldn’t she at least wake her up? Chloé would have come with her without objections… well, maybe with a bit of whining, but she wouldn’t have let her out alone.

They didn’t spend all these years searching just to lose her again.

Biting her lip, the girl tried to call Marinette. First, there were the beeps from her phone, and then…

The blonde barely restrained herself from smashing the phone against a wall once she heard Jagged Stone’s latest hit from the room upstairs.

“Damn Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé snarled through clenched teeth “was it so hard to take the phone along?”

Taking a deep breath, Bourgeois attempted to think the matter through. Yet the encroaching panic interfered with her thoughts. Over the six days since Marinette was found, Adrien didn’t have a single attack, but what will happen should he learn she had vanished again? Well, not quite vanished. Gone to Madame Zhou’s.

Chloé licked her dry lips. She did learn Madame Zhou’s address while gathering the information about Emma Lee. If Marinette went there, then Chloé should follow and find the fugitive before Agreste learns of the incident. No need to worry the hero of Paris ahead of time. He had plenty of other worries; finding Liu Jin, for example, or Antoine Pierrot’s murderers, or that ill-fated package containing God-knows-what…

Except her intuition was suggesting she shouldn’t keep quiet. One girl had left already with nothing but a note! Should Chloé do the same and then something happens, she shouldn’t expect a pat on the head. Damn, Chat Noir is going to let all hell loose upon her just for what happened _already_! Bourgeois made a promise not to let Marinette out of her sight, and she failed.

To calm down at least a little bit, the blonde closed her eyes and slowly counted to ten.

Call Adrien and confess to her blunder? That way, Chloé will draw his anger right away, maybe will give the hero of Paris another panic attack, but, on the other hand, Chat Noir will learn of his Lady’s disappearance in time.

Not to call, going after Marinette on her own instead? A visit to Madame Zhou shouldn’t be dangerous, which means Adrien’s wrath could be avoided or at least delayed.

“You owe me for that,” Bourgeois snarled, looking at a photo of Marinette smiling at her from a bookshelf.

The decision was made. The blonde exhaled sharply and raised the phone to her ear.

“Hello, taxi?” she asked. “I need a car at…”

 


	21. The ill-fated mail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, italics indicate Chinese speech.

Nathaniel’s heavy sigh as he looked on the phone’s screen did not remain unnoticed.

“Something wrong?” Agreste asked.

“I really hope not,” Nate grumbled as he put the phone back in his pocket. Chloé had texted him saying Marinette ‘went for a walk’ and was asking him not to tell Adrien yet. Well, sending a moth to tail Marinette was no big deal, and chastising either girl could wait. “Nothing serious, really,” the redhead tried to put a smile on his face, but it was hard to smile at someone you hate and despise. If not for Marinette, he would never have cooperated with Chat Noir, but the current situation was leaving no alternative. Nathaniel was the only one who could find Liu Jin. Chat Noir was the only one who could kill him. “Let us continue the search.”

A swarm of moths wrapped around Kurtzberg, clothing him in his costume. The rested-up Hawk Moth released his white-winged servants again, but this time, it wasn’t the whole hundred of moths that went to search for the elusive gangster. Two flew straight to Chloé and Marinette. Should something happen, Nate will know right away.

***

Adrien leaned the chin on his intertwined fingers. The wait was depressing. He could have been spending this time with the Princess, yet he was forced to sit next to Hawk Moth so that he could respond at once and go after Liu Jin’s head as soon as the bastard is found. Once that happens, the guiding butterfly will show him the way.

Then, nothing will stop Chat and his craving for revenge.

Of course, he could have waited for Kurtzberg’s signal in the bakery just as well, but that would have meant wasting time. Nathaniel could only control a hundred butterflies at once, so it was more prudent to wait for the results right next to him. This way, all the white-wings could be involved in the search, and none needed to be sent after the tailed hero.

Noir had been awaiting his vengeance for six and a half years. Liu Jin had long overstayed his welcome in the world of the living.

“Found him,” was Hawk Moth’s hesitant whisper, followed by an excited shout; “Found him! There he is.”

Kurtzberg tapped his staff, and a few dozen butterflies returned to their master that very instant. Adrien, not wasting a second, transformed and leapt out of the window, following his guiding moth.

For the first time, Chat Noir felt like _that much_ of a predator. He didn’t care one bit that the hero of Paris shouldn’t kill as a vigilante, even if it the person in question was the most notorious criminal. He didn’t worry about Marinette not wanting blood on his hands for her sake.

He was doing it for his own sake, not his Lady’s.

Noir _had_ to unleash all his rage, all his hatred and fury upon the person who almost took his love’s life. After all, had Tikki not performed an emergency transformation on her own the moment Marinette fell into the water, his Lady would not have survived. Chat will not rest until he sees Liu Jin dead. Until he rips out the man’s last breath with his own claws.

Rushing toward his mark, Noir wasn’t even watching where he ran. His hate-filled eyes were focused on the guiding moth.

A leap from roof to roof. Then another. Extend the staff, push off, jump, repeat. No thinking about the moves. On autopilot, the hero went on, led by his white-winged guide and his hunger for vengeance.

Noir had no idea where the butterfly will lead him. It only mattered _to whom_. He didn’t ask Kurtzberg where he managed to find Liu Jin. What for? Why waste the time on meaningless questions, if Chat will learn everything anyway as soon as he completes his journey? No need for details. This bastard could not be allowed to live a second more.

Chat will avenge every single scar Marinette had, every minute he spent away from his beloved, every nightmare he had seen as soon as he closed his eyes.

Alya was right – his obsession with Marinette had driven Adrien mad. But that madness was to his advantage now, muting the part of his mind whispering: ‘a hero must not kill’.

For the sake of revenge, Noir was willing to become a villain, to become like his father.

The butterfly paused in the air, showing they were almost there.

Chat gripped his staff tighter, and clenched his teeth, ready to finally face his worst foe. He closed the eyes to gather his thoughts and calm down his racing heart. True, he had no intention to let Liu Jin live a second longer, but should Noir give himself away too early, it might give the Chinese an advantage, even let him slip away again.

He will be a silently approaching death, as befits a Cat.

Noir’s face twisted into a predatory snarl. The blond jumped onto the roof of an inconspicuous three-story house where Liu Jin was hiding, and then slipped after his guide into a window on the top floor.

So unwise, leaving it open!

With feline silence, Noir moved toward his target. The moth was leading him, but Chat could tell already that his target was downstairs. He could hear the Chinese having a heatedly argument with someone, and was trying to decide; should he attack now, or wait until Liu Jin was alone, so that he could enjoy his vengeance in full.

Except one of the voices was surprisingly familiar.

***

And yet, Marinette was reckless. Ladybug was the embodiment of Luck, so how come outside the mask, the former heroine had such an unmatched talent for getting into trouble? Somehow, she didn’t even feel surprised or scared, only having one thought; damn it, she knew she shouldn’t expect anything good on the second floor of Zhou’s empty house.

“One more step, and I blow out her brains,” said the middle-aged Chinese man holding a gun to Madame Zhou’s temple. The older woman was tied tightly to a chair, a rag gagging her too tightly to allow more than a quiet moan, her eyes looking at the man in a desperate plea.

“Who are you and what do you need?” Marinette was hoping her voice was steady enough. She was ready to say the transformation phrase at any moment, but couldn’t risk turning into the heroine right now; startled by the pink flash, the man could shoot, and the girl could not allow her savior to die.

“I take it you’re the gal who fled Chat Noir on a bike?” the man ignored her question.

Madame Zhou gave a frightened moan, confirming the man’s theory to him.

“Well, so it’s you I should thank for the distraction,” he snorted.

“You may consider it payback for helping with the paperwork,” the former heroine answered coldly, now certain who the man in front of her was.

‘Xiao Lu got the package. Details in person’ – that was all Madame Zhou said in her phone call. That information was a shock for the woman herself, who, even tied and gagged, looked like someone praying it was all a dream. The desperation obvious in Madame Zhou’s eyes was one of a person betrayed by someone very close to him. Marinette didn’t know what connected her savior to Xiao Lu, but the pain from his violation of trust was obvious.

The man went over Marinette’s words for a while, as if struggling to remember something, and then suddenly changed his expression. The pensiveness changed into realization of something unbelievable, and the next moment, Xiao Lu burst into annoyingly disgusting laughter.

“Wouldn’t you, darling, be Emma Lee?” once he finished laughing, the man was almost singing from the joy of his discovery. “How many years has it been? Six? Or was it seven? Weren’t you the one old Liu Jin shot on that bridge? Damn it, I’ve got a living Ladybug right in front of me, and unmasked to boot!”

“W-what are you talking about?” the shocked brunette was really hoping her reaction could convince the Chinese that he reached the wrong conclusion. “L-ladybug?”

“Or should I call you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” Alas, Xiao Lu was fully confident he was right. “What have you done to upset Gabriel Agreste so much that he hired Liu Jin to off you?”

Marinette flinched. How did the man know _this_ kind of details? Was he the only one? Did Madame Zhou, after promising to keep Ladybug’s secret safe from everyone, give it away to Xiao Lu?

No.

From the way Madame Zhou’s eyes went wide with shock, Xiao Lu’s knowledge was news to her as well. But how could he know then? Was he working with Liu Jin?

Or was the secret of her identity the very trump card that accursed package contained?

“Why are you silent, La-a-ady?” Xiao Lu drew out before another disgusting giggle. “Did you forget how to speak during the years of retirement?” The man pressed the barrel of his gun even stronger against Madame Zhou’s temple. “Satisfy my curiosity… before I need to satisfy my bloodlust,” his finger descended onto the trigger. “Well, Mademoiselle, don’t keep me waiting.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Marinette spoke through clenched teeth. She needed to buy time for figuring out how to save Madame Zhou. The girl knew without doubt; the man was bluffing. Madame was a valuable hostage – while she was alive, Ladybug won’t dare attack. But should he kill her, nothing will stop the girl from suiting up and attacking the bandit.

To feign ignorance for as long as possible, then admit he was right and answer a few questions, to let the gangster feel in control, then to entice and distract him with a conversation full of made-up facts. By then, Chat Noir, having discovered his beloved was missing, will come to aid.

Alas, the former heroine of Paris had no idea how far her partner was at the moment.

***

The desire to Cataclysm Liu Jin no matter what didn’t vanish, but did become secondary as Chat Noir realized who the gangster was talking to. The hero hid behind the door and started listening in, trying to understand how come he could be as blind and naïve as a newborn kitten.

Although… If Adrien couldn’t even recognize his own father as Hawk Moth, what could he say about a man whom he had only met a handful of times?

“Don’t you know perfectly well what awaits us should that package become public?” the voice appeared to be Liu Jin’s. He was irritated, furious, but also scared. “That damn Xiao Lu demands an outrageous sum!”

“Calm down,” the other man answered coldly. Chat Noir clenched his teeth, since with every word the man spoke, he grew more and more convinced that he knew his identity. “I am the one who’ll be hurt by that package the most.”

“Doesn’t make it easier!” the Chinese shot out before something crashed onto the floor. It appeared he decided to take out his anger on whatever was at hand.

“Xiao Lu having the package is fully and completely your fault. Had you curbed your ambition and stayed out of my way, none of that would have happened.”

“Wrong,” Liu Jin hissed, “had you not tried to intercept the package yourself, _then_ nothing would have happened.”

“As if I don’t know, Jin, what you would have done with it in your hands!” the accomplice chuckled. “You would have blackmailed me, made me into your errand boy.”

“You did just say you would have been hurt by that package’s contents the most,” the Chinese man howled with hysterical laughter. “Would be a shame not to use this kind of a trump card.”

“What a bastard you are…”

“At least I don’t hide that by pretending to be a proper citizen. The mask of hypocrisy doesn’t hurt, eh, Dupree?”  
      

***

Marinette tensed at hearing the steps downstairs. This couldn’t be Noir; her Kitty could move silently. Judging from Xiao Lu still being completely confident, these steps didn’t mean anything good.

“Step away from the door, Lady,” the Chinese man ordered as he caressed the trigger as a point.

Marinette was forced to obey. She made five steps in the direction Xiao Lu indicated with a nod, and stopped next to the wall. The girl knew that if the ones downstairs were his men, then she needed to act before they entered. Except the gun was too close to her savior’s head. Ladybug could not risk the woman’s life.

The steps came closer, while the heart of the former heroine was beating so hard that the hammering was obscuring other sounds, not allowing to tell how many people were walking up the stairs.

But as soon as the door opened, the girl saw it herself.

Three.

To be precise, two armed goons whom the girl clearly remembered seeing among Wang Bao’s men at the factory, and Madame Yu. The woman’s arms were tied with a coarse rope, her right eye had an enormous shiner, and her lower lip was split.

“ _Xiao Lu, scum, drop dead you dirty swine,_ ” as soon as Madame Yu saw Xiao Lu, she burst into cursing him in Chinese. “ _She’s your mother, damn you_!”

“Somebody shut her up,” the gangster ordered, followed by one of the henchmen punching Madame Yu in the gut, making her double over and drop to her knees. “And tie up that lass,” he pointed at Marinette. “Be careful though. _That’s Ladybug_.”

***

Dupain-Cheng didn’t even try to resist as the gangsters tied her up. It only gave her an advantage; Tikki could remove the bonds at any moment, and her being tied up could make the gangsters complacent. She only needed to wait for the right moment, transform into Ladybug and then show these Chinese what happens to people who break the laws of France.

The girl gave Madame Zhou a sympathetic look. She had no idea the woman had children, but now it was obvious why her savior was so shocked at Xiao Lu’s actions. The woman trusted her son, who turned out not to be the perfect child him mother considered him.

Damn, had Marinette doubted but for a moment Madame Zhou’s word about Xiao Lu having nothing to do with the factory incident, this could all have been avoided. Adrien did say the possibility should not be discarded. Nathalie, too, believed it was possible.

Perhaps she should not have been so stubborn?

“ _Is this girl really Ladybug_?” one of the goons inquired as he crouched in front of Marinette and looked at her closely. “ _Nobody has seen her for seven years_.”

“As real as it gets,” now that all three victims were tied up, Xiao Lu had finally removed the gun from his mother’s temple. “Liu Jin’s gonna be really surprised to learn that she survived.”

“ _So, you’re with Liu Jin as well, you snake in the grass_?” Madame Yu got another hit in the gut for speaking out. This time it was Xiao Lu’s own boot.

“ _Better keep quiet, Yu Ling_ ,” he grinned, looking into her hateful eyes. “ _But since you’re asking, no, we’re not in league. But soon, Liu Jin will be my personal lapdog. And it’s all thanks to you, Ladybug_ ,” – the man gave a mocking bow to the former heroine of Paris.

“I’m no Ladybug,” she said coldly. This man, who could treat his mother like that, was worse than Gabriel Agreste. That one was at least committing crimes for the sake of his family, while Xiao Lu cared for nothing but his own petty ambitions.

“ _Boss, are you sure there is no mistake_?” asked the guy who was studying Marinette’s face. “ _I definitely saw this gal. She works as a waitress in ‘Plum Branch’_.”

“ _Had Feng known who’s serving his drinks, he would have really raised his prices_ ,” the second minion laughed out.

Xiao Lu shook his head wearily, and that was when Marinette decided it was time to act.

“Tikki, spo…”

But the shot rang out before she could turn into the heroine of Paris.

 


	22. The Tri-Ad-Diyu

Nathaniel’s butterflies had found Marinette and Chloé quickly enough. The redheaded Hawk Moth could feel the strength of the ire and cruelty radiating from Xiao Lu, and knew at once; caution is required. This man would murder without a second thought. How sorry Kurtzberg was about never checking his emotions earlier! Trusting Madame Zhou’s feelings, Hawk Moth simply ignored the man. And now he was facing the consequences.

Unfortunately, there was no one for Nathaniel to blame aside from his own stupidity and shortsightedness. He could feel Madame Zhou being honest when she said Xiao Lu is harmless, but he didn’t even consider that she could be making an honest mistake due to trusting the man completely. Chat Noir did warn him that not even the one who had saved Marinette’s life could be trusted unquestioningly. Had Kurtzberg not been so blind with envy, perhaps he would have listened to his rival, and Marinette would not have been in danger now.

For three years, Nate had hated Noir for not protecting Marinette that day on the bridge, even though he knew the leather-clad hero could not have averted the tragedy he knew nothing about. Yet now, Nathaniel had the chance to avert a similar situation, and had missed it by not paying just a bit more attention.

And the moment Kurtzberg realized how stupid it was, envying Chat Noir and accusing him of all possible sins, his Miraculous burst into rainbow light.

At long last, the Butterfly Brooch was purged of its old owner’s taint.

***

The taxi stopped in front of the two-story building where, according to Mademoiselle Bourgeois’ info, Madame Zhou lived. Having paid the driver, the young woman exited the car and sighed, nor sure what she should do; come in and look for Marinette, or wait for her outside. She was full of determination to bring the runaway home and give her a thorough reprimand for daring to leave on her own while Liu Jin was still at large, and she herself was a suspect in stealing the package during the factory shootout.

Chloé didn’t intend to wait long; once thirty seconds had passed without Marinette coming out, Bourgeois made a confident step toward the main door… and froze, stunned.

– _Don’t go in_ , – she heard Nathaniel’s voice in her head. Damn, had it always been so charming? – _It’s a trap_. –

“Don’t tell me Dupain-Cheng’s in trouble again,” whispered Chloé, irritated, yet hardly surprised at having an interlocutor in her head. “Adrien is going to kill us.”

– _If Marinette isn’t killed first_ , – was the answer. Bourgeois tensed, suddenly realizing how serious the matter was. Heroes aren’t all-powerful; after all, seven years ago, Ladybug herself had almost ended up dead because of some common gangsters. Chloé won’t allow it to happen again!

Except what could she do?

– _I can give you the power_ , – Nathaniel said, as if reading her thought. – _And unlike my predecessor, I will not demand a price from you. Are you willing to make the deal?_ –

“I am, Hawk Moth,”

White radiance shrouded the blonde.

***

Chat Noir was squeezing his staff so hard, that were it not kwami magic, it would have snapped. As recently as yesterday, Adrien was wondering how his father had managed to contact Liu Jin, but now everything fit together. Gabriel Agreste, André Bourgeois and Alain Dupree had been friends since their school days. And if you want to find a gangster, who can help you better than the police chief himself? He could only hope that mayor Bourgeois had nothing to do with all this.

Because Adrien really didn’t want Chloé’s father to make her suffer any of that disappointment which he now knew so well.

From Liu and Dupree’s squabble, it was obvious to Noir what the package contained; evidence that seven years ago, Alain Dupree had helped Gabriel Agreste hire Liu Jin in order to assassinate Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And proof that all three men knew the girl used to be the heroine of Paris.

Indeed, that was the trump card to put one at the head of the Paris branch of the Triad!

Should it end in Liu Jin’s hands – the chief of police, afraid for his hide, would have become a loyal mutt. Should some third side get the package – not only would Alain Dupree be under his power, but so would be Liu Jin himself, with all his gang, money and connections. And should the media learn what the package contained… the effect would be nuclear. Chat Noir dreaded to even imagine the consequences. Most likely, neither Liu Jin nor Alain Dupree would have survived it. Chat had arrested his share of criminals, and he knew even the vilest of the scum had admirers of the fearless Ladybug among them. The very members of the Triad wouldn’t have hesitated to kill the ones who had raised arms against the heroine of Paris.

Now, as far as Noir understood, Xiao Lu had the package, and was demanding an enormous sum from Liu Jin in exchange for his silence. The man’s behavior was completely inconsistent with the image Madame Zhou drew. That benign Chinese would not have started a shooting at the factory, nor poisoned Antoine Pierrot! Somehow, the woman who had saved Marinette’s life was mistaken, but Chat didn’t care one bit about that; once he deals with Liu Jin and Alain Dupree – he’ll be visiting Xiao Lu to discuss the package. No matter what, Chat will protect his Lady’s identity.

But first, vengeance.

Liu Jin switched to Chinese obscenities. While fluent in the language, Adrien didn’t even understand half the curses the gangster was throwing at Alain Dupree. The police chief gave as good as he got, but each word of his made Liu Jin madder and madder.

This stream of dueling insults no longer contained anything valuable. Besides, Chat already knew everything that he needed.

Which meant that it was time for the herald of Misfortune to interfere.

***

First of all, Chloé looked at her hands. Clad in red with black spots, they made her wonder whether Mademoiselle Bourgeois might have turned into Ladybug.

– _More like Copybug_ , – Nathaniel’s voice in her head explained. – _You should actually be familiar with this power, having been Antibug once._ – 

“If only I could remember that,” Chloé whispered bashfully. Kurtzberg’s tone as he spoke was making goosebumps rush over her head to toes, her legs weak, and her heart flutter with excitement.

– _You can do it_ , – God, how calming his words sounded! How Bourgeois wanted to trust him, always and in everything. Only a small part of her mind still remembered it was the magical butterfly which was causing all that. – _Marinette is on the second floor. She is tied up, but can free herself at any moment. The problem is three armed gangsters, they are holding Madame Zhou and Madame Yu hostage._ –

Copybug nodded, assuming Hawk Moth could see the gesture from inside her head, and, throwing the yo-yo at the drain pipe, pulled herself onto the roof. Silently, she walked in the direction Kurtzberg was pointing out, and stopped over a closed window, ready, as soon as the charming voice commanded, to break the glass, leap in and tie up the bandits who forced her to recognize that redheaded dummy as her master.

Loud male laughter came from below, making Copybug wrinkle her nose in disgust. Now, any voice which was not Kurtzberg was unpleasant to her, and these guys’ laughter was terribly disgusting to begin with. The girl even put her hands over the ears, distracted for a second.

Who could have known that second will cost so much?

– _Chloé, hurry!_ – came Hawk Moth’s frightened shout.

And the next moment, a shot rang below.

***

The shot rang before Chat Noir could open the door.

The moment the hero burst into the room, he saw an unfamiliar Chinese – Liu Jin – lying on the floor, holding his bleeding abdomen, and Alain Dupree, standing a few meters away with a gun in his hands.

“Monsieur Chat?” the chief of police said with a mask of stolidity as he saw the uninvited guest. “You’re just in time. This gangster…”

“Has killed Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” Noir’s voice was calm as well, despite the storm of anger, hatred and fury raging within him. “I know, that’s why I’m here.”

Alain Dupree flinched, but quickly got himself back under control, probably hoping the hero of Paris didn’t hear their conversation, but rather had learned about it from elsewhere. Hopefully, not from the package.

“He tried to flee; lethal force was the only option,” the policeman lied without batting an eyelash as a choked groan came from the dying Liu Jin.

Silently, Chat Noir extended his staff.

“A bastard like that doesn’t deserve to live,” Alain Dupree struggled to keep himself composed, perfectly aware that no bullet will harm the hero of Paris unless he detransforms. He kept holding onto the hair-thin straw of hope that Chat didn’t know he was connected to the hit. Or at least about Marinette Dupain-Cheng having been Ladybug.

“I believe so _meow_ self,” a predatory snarl appeared on Noir’s face.

Liu Jin was writing in his death throes, but neither man cared to notice.

“The same can be said about you,” Chat switched the weapon to his left hand, freeing up the right one for a Cataclysm. “ _Meow_ nsieur Du _purr_ ee.”  
      

***

It all happened in a few seconds.

Xiao Lu, seeing the determination in his captive’s eyes, realized what she was about to do, and pointed his gun at her. But before he could press the trigger, Madame Yu, despite all her bruises and lying on the floor, had managed to twist and kick the gangster’s legs. Xiao Lu missed; his bullet flew past the heroine of Paris.

But his minion didn’t miss Madame Yu.

“Don’t move,” shouted Xiao Lu, ready to shoot his mother at any moment. His hands were trembling. The man was fully aware of being in a serious disadvantage; he was down one hostage, and the heroine’s suit, as the papers in the package explained plainly enough, was perfectly bulletproof. “Or I shoot!”

His minions haven’t read these papers, so their weapons were aimed at the heroine of Paris, her eyes burning with righteous fury.

The crimson-clad fingers were now upon the yo-yo. Xiao Lu gulped down the lump in his throat, ready to repeat his threat or press the trigger in a heartbeat.

But there was no time to do anything – even blink – before he was tied up with the indestructible string of the heroine’s weapon.

The last thing Xiao Lu heard before losing consciousness from the strangling bonds, was the sound of breaking glass.

***

Xiao Lu’s minions were dispatched by Copybug with two strikes and three yo-yo swings. As soon as both men were knocked out, Chloé ran to the wounded woman.

“Alive,” the blonde proclaimed. Only then did Ladybug loosen the string of her trusty weapon.

“I’m taking her to a doctor,” the Lady said as she put the yo-yo back on her belt. “Take care of Madame Zhou.”

“Maybe calling an ambulance would be better?” even with the butterfly’s power, Mademoiselle Bourgeois was nauseated from the sight of Madame Yu’s blood-soaked qipao.

“They’re mafia,” the answer required no elaborations. “The underground clinic where I was treated is nearby.”

***

Nathaniel breathed out in exhaustion. His head, unused to the mental strain (after all, it wasn’t easy – watching events in two places simultaneously along with empowering another person) was hurting terribly.

How glad he was that everything came to an end.

And a good end.

Liu Jin and Alain Dupree were both dead. The realization made Kurtzberg so incredibly satisfied, that it was a miracle his Miraculous didn’t become tainted again. Perhaps it was because Nathaniel had nothing to do with the men’s death.

Nor did Chat Noir.

With the last of his strength, the dying Liu Jin had managed to aim the gun and shoot Alain Dupree before the Cataclysm reached its target. All three people connected to the bridge incident – Gabriel Agreste, Alain Dupree and Liu Jin – went to Hell before Noir could have his revenge.

The thought that Marinette was waiting for Adrien at home was the only thing that stopped Chat from losing the remains of his sanity as he applied the now worthless charge of annihilation to the walls of the building where the two men he hated the most had killed each other.

Madame Yu’s wound was serious, but not lethal. The illegal doctor who had pulled Marinette out of the grave all these years ago, had promised the older lady will be fine within two months. Fine enough that she won’t even remember it.

And as for Xiao Lu, his minions and that ill-fated package, Madame Zhou had promised to take care of them. Nathaniel, who was watching as the Chinese woman gave Chloé that promise, was the only one who knew, thanks to the Hawk Moth’s power, just _what_ kind of care she meant.

The string of misfortunes had finally come to an end.

Now, nothing was stopping Marinette Dupain-Cheng from returning officially to her old life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes:
> 
> The Triad story arc is over. Next chapter starts the final story arc, dedicated to Marinette returning openly.
> 
> And a little about the chapter matter.
> 
> The eleventh chapter was specifically dedicated to Chloé and Nathaniel, and it had nothing to do with delaying Marinette's and Noir's reunion, as some might have thought. It's because in dice, the combination of two ones is called "snake eyes". Besides, the digit one somewhat resembles a stretched out snake, and the chapter focuses on two characters I keep comparing to snakes.
> 
> Take this quote, for example:" Yes, Chloé was very good at causing pain with nothing but her words. What she spoke was like incredibly sharp snake fangs; piercing his body and spreading through his mind like poison." As for Nathaniel, he was full of envy toward Chat Noir, and a snake symbolizes envy.
> 
> In this chapter, however, Nathaniel got rid of his envy, got his Miraculous cleansed, and Chloé had once again proved she wasn't a snake, but a Goddess as she ran selflessly to help Marinette. Meaning; the "snakes" had shed their skins and started anew.
> 
> Oh, and... The number of this chapter is twenty-two, which is two swans, and what does a pair of swans symbolizes? The fic is going to have Chloé/Nathaniel! ^_^


	23. The Reunion Ghost

Deprived once again of the chance for vengeance (forever, this time), Adrien had spent the next few days in an extremely gloomy mood, one even Marinette could not bring him out of. It was made even worse by the fact that, while the revenge-obsessed Chat had been listening to Liu Jin’s and Alain Dupree’s dialogue, his Lady and Chloé were in real danger, courtesy of Xiao Lu, and Noir didn’t have the slightest idea. The hero of Paris was thanking all possible gods for the girls not only being alive and well at the end, but also managing to close the case of the factory shooting and Antoine Pierrot’s death. But… what would have happened, had Lady Fortune abandoned Marinette again, like she did seven years ago? What would have happened, had Xiao Lu not missed with his first shot?

It was terrifying to imagine such a thing, yet for Adrien, impossible not to.

But, in addition to young Agreste’s sadness, the heroes were facing another problem. Everything was over, meaning Marinette could officially reclaim her old name. Except the girl, who used to insist she was determined to become herself again and ready to face her old life, had suddenly backtracked. The record titled ‘What will I tell them, and how will they react?’ was brought out from the deepest shelves of her mind and set on endless repeat.

It was Chloé who came to the rescue again.

With the words ‘Shock therapy is the order of the day’, Mademoiselle Bourgeois started organizing a Françoise Dupont school reunion. The blonde’s idea of shocking their old classmates with Marinette Dupain-Cheng popping up at the meeting was very much to Adrien’s liking. His feline nature woken up, Agreste, imagining the effect of Marinette’s ‘resurrection’, had managed to crawl out of the depths of self-flagellation and convince the Princess to accept the plan.

“My Lady, imagine how much easier it would be, announcing your rebirth to everyone at once,” he insisted “versus explaining to them one person at a time. Besides, in front of everyone, there is no way Alya will _murr_ der you.”

That last argument was convincing enough, and so, an hour later, Marinette was working on the sketch of her ‘resurrection’ dress.

***

Concentrating, Marinette was hunched over the scarlet fabric destined to soon become a cocktail dress, as Adrien approached and hugged her from behind.

“Sabine called,” he whispered before the Lady could express her indignity. “Her and Tom are staying in China for a bit longer. Some second great-uncle of yours has a jubilee, so…”

“And you haven’t told them I’m home?”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you,” Marinette turned toward Adrien and hugged him back before adding: “I don’t want them to worry ahead of time. And please, Adrien, stop apologizing for everything.”

“How is Madame Yu?” he hurried to change the subject. Adrien knew he couldn’t promise to stop apologizing; the sense of guilt for all of Marinette’s troubles wasn’t going anywhere for a long time yet. “I heard you calling Madame Zhou, and… are you sure she needs no money for the medical care?”

Marinette shook her head. For the longest time, she disliked Madame Yu for her unpleasant temper, to the extent that, upon seeing Madame Zhou tied up, she suspected her of being a traitor in league with Xiao Lu. And yet reality was the exact opposite. Not only did Yu remain loyal to Madame Zhou, she also saved Marinette’s life, at the cost of a heavy wound to herself.

“Madame Zhou said they don’t require anything,” Dupain-Cheng pulled herself away from Adrien and went back to her work, hoping he won’t notice the tears in her eyes. “This is the second time I owe them my life, and they won’t even accept a thank you.”

Only now did Marinette realize how hard it was for Madame Zhou to ask for help with the package, even if it was presented as paying a debt. The Chinese woman would have never done it had she not felt the dangers of the gangsters’ power struggle. And had there been another way, she wouldn’t have involved the heroine of Paris under any circumstances.

“I could say they are doing this out of their own gratitude to Ladybug,” Adrien said as he sat on the couch. The Princess’ trembling voice did not go unnoticed by him, but the guy decided it’s better to pretend it did. “But I won’t, because obviously, that won’t make things easier.”

“I feel so ashamed because of Madame Yu,” she admitted. “I don’t even know where this prejudice had come from. I knew so many people with far more unpleasant demeanors, yet I never felt _such_ dislike for them.”

“Let me guess,” Agreste grinned. “Tikki spoke badly about her?”

“How do you know?” the astonished Marinette turned to face her love, forgetting she wanted to hide her tearstained eyes from him.

“Plagg,” he answered. “Him and Nooroo have been discussing Madame Yu, and my little pain concluded she is really like one of the old Ladybugs, whose temper was a bad match for Tikki. Ever since, your kwami dislikes anyone who re _meow_ nds her of that charge.”

***

The doors of Collège Françoise Dupont were once again open to the former graduates. And despite the meeting and party being scheduled for seven o’clock, two people had entered the school’s doors three hours earlier.

Marinette thought that coming earlier might help calm her nerves by the time she had to face the ones who believed her dead for the past seven years. Yet it turned out to be the exact opposite; the girl felt like her heartbeat was echoing not only in her ears, but all through the empty building’s corridors, bouncing off the cold walls, growing into a thunderous hammering. How could Adrien, holding her hand with a soft smile, fail to notice this terrifyingly loud roar?

“My Lady,” with a sudden stop, Adrien looked into his love’s eyes, “Do you remember how I asked you for an autograph right here? And there,” he went on, “you gave Alya some croissants, and then me and Nino came, and you two shared them with us?”

Agreste’s trip down the memory lane helped Marinette regain some measure of calm. She kept asking herself; how could Adrien remember all that, especially in such detail? After all, back then, he had no idea she was Ladybug. The girl was about to ask him, but suddenly, all thought left her brain.

Nine years ago, Marinette dreamed of entering the classroom hand in hand with Adrien Agreste.

Her dream came true.

***

Alya Lahiffe seemed even more obsessed with her phone than during her years in Collège Françoise Dupont. Seriously; she didn’t even enter the doors before sending thirty-seven texts to her younger sister asking how her little Marie was doing. The last time she had to briefly leave her baby daughter while visiting Agreste, at least Alya’s mom, Marlene was watching her. Now Madame Césaire was busy at work, so the baby had to be watched by Ella Césaire, whom Alya used to babysit herself, and therefore was unable to see as an adult.

“My dear, everything will be fine,” Nino sighed wearily. He was concerned for his daughter as well, naturally, but he was also worried about his wife, who had to unwind a bit. “An hour of socializing here, and we’re going back home.”

“But what if Marie gets hungry?” Alya asked while glued to the screen (her text had been read a full thirty seconds ago, and Ella was yet to reply!)

“Maybe in a week or so,” Lahiffe snickered, remembering the preparations.

It was tradition for all the graduates to assemble in the gym for a dancing party, and then go to their old classrooms to reminisce about the old times together. Nine years ago, Nino was a DJ at such a reunion. He would have never imagined returning here someday as a father and a happy husband. Or the schoolboy in charge of the music at his reunion being so irresponsible.

“Who ever puts mixes like these?” Monsieur Lahiffe lamented. “I would have been fired from the radio station the moment I allowed myself something like that!”

“That’s why you work at the radio, and he does not,” Kim snickered as he approached them. “Hello. And congratulations on the newcomer!”

“And you on the wedding,” Madame Lahiffe nudged his side. “Where’s Alix?”

“Talking to Juleka,” the former number one wrangler of the collège pointed with a broad wave.

Had anyone in their class been told nine years ago that Kim and Alix will both become talented doctors, will be invited to work at a renowned clinic in China, and then marry, no one would have believed it. Yet that was precisely what happened, proving once again how unpredictable life could be.

“Hey, Nino, who’s that girl Agreste brought with him?” Kim asked suddenly. “I didn’t see it myself, but some fellows from our year say he didn’t come alone.”

Lahiffe choked, while his wife, remembering what happened at the Dupain-Cheng house, was about to launch into a furious tirade, but didn’t get the chance.

“That’s his future wife,” Sabrina informed them with a sly grin as she popped up in front of them. “At least, that’s what Chloé promised to arrange.”

“Chloé,” Madame Lahiffe snarled through her teeth. So that’s who introduced Agreste to that pipsqueak. No, of course it’s good he was living again, but not like _that_!

The list of people whose hair Alya intended to rip out now had a second name on it.

***

The party kept going on, but no one had seen Agreste yet. Meanwhile, the rumors about his upcoming wedding kept spreading astonishingly fast. Alya even received a call from Rose, who was living abroad with her husband, Prince Ali, and wanted to know who her former classmate’s mysterious fiancée was.

Chloé, the only person besides Adrien who could have answered the question, had vanished as well. Max claimed that he saw Bourgeois leaving the room hand in hand with Kurtzberg. All the former classmates laughed at him after these words. Chloé and Nathaniel together? A dead person will rise from the grave first!

Alya definitely had to figure out what was happening. Her little sister wasn’t a child anymore and could certainly take care of Marie. However, figuring out this situation was a job for no one except the best reporter of Paris.

***

The music went away, notifying everyone it was time for the former pupils to leave for their classrooms. Chloé had finally popped up, surprisingly, alongside Nathaniel. The two were definitely looking like they were plotting something, and Alya barely restrained herself from starting to interrogate them this very moment.

Not yet.

First, there was the matter of Agreste’s fiancée.

“Chloé, is it true Adrien is getting married?” Milene voiced everyone’s thoughts as they were walking down the corridor toward their classroom.

“Nothing is set officially yet,” Bourgeois answered with a smug grin, “but I don’t think Adrikins will wait for too long.”

“Hot damn,” Juleka shot out. “And who’s the fiancée? You?”

 Chloé rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and opened the classroom’s door.

***

The pair didn’t care one bit about the people who entered the classroom as they made out with abandon. The girl, sitting right on the desk which used to belong to Marinette Dupain-Cheng, had her legs around the blond standing in front of her, who, clinging to her lips, was clutching her hair with one hand, and gently caressing her thigh with the other. They didn’t even pay attention to everyone else’s shock. Someone, probably Alix and Kim, gave a whistle. Another person said: ‘Hot damn’, and yet another dropped something.

And only one voice made the two lovers flinch.

“God damn you, Agreste!” Madame Lahiffe roared as she bashed the desk at which her husband used to sit. “First in _her_ bed, now on _her_ desk!.. Don’t you have a shred of conscience left!?”

Adrien gave no answer, but did break the kiss. At once, the frightened girl buried her face in his shoulder, not allowing them to see it.

Alya turned toward her old classmates and looked at them, as if she was looking for support, but no one, not even her husband, knew what to do in this situation. Some were averting their gaze, some kept staring at Agreste in shock. Chloé, Nathaniel and Sabrina were acting as if nothing happened. Nino was shuffling his feet awkwardly. He was far happier at his friend having found a _living_ girl than angry at him betraying Marinette’s memory.

Alya clenched her fists.

If no one wants to help her – well, fine! She’ll just have to pull these perverts off her late BFF’s desk herself.

But as soon as she made a step toward them, Madame Bustier entered the room.

“All outsiders are asked to leave the classroom, and the former pupils are to take their seats,” she spoke clearly, as she gave Adrien and his girl a surprised look.

The once graduates took their seats obediently, still watching both Agreste, who kept embracing the girl sitting on their late classmate’s desk, and Alya, who was standing in front of them with the look of a beast ready to pounce on its foe at any moment.

“All outsiders are asked to leave the classroom,” Madame Bustier repeated hesitantly as she clutched to her chest a folder full of her former pupils’ old essays.

“There are no outsiders here, madame,” came Nathaniel’s voice from the back of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Chloé spoke in a loud voice:

“Adrikins, get unglued from this Dupain-Cheng of yours already!”


	24. The official and the real

In her heart, Chloé Bourgeois was bursting with glee as she watched the effect her phrase had; Madame Bustier dropped her folder; Ivan sank to the floor in fear; the always blatantly and openly atheistic Max made a cross sign; Lila, whispering ‘A ghost’, clutched the pale Juleka’s hand… Gorgeous! Even Alya Lahiffe was frozen rigid.

“No, seriously!” the blonde knew not everyone could hear her words right now, but they had to have some effect on the ones who could. “Could you break apart for a few seconds at least? Dupain-Cheng, I do realize Adrien’s gone a bit nuts, but you?”

“Jealous, Chloé?” Nathaniel played along. He was no longer that shy, bashful boy who spent the classes drawing as many pictures and as little attention as possible. Ever since the Miraculous ended up in his hands and allowed him to look into people’s hearts, Kurtzberg gained a lot of self-confidence.

“More like afraid Adrikins will crush poor Dupain-Cheng in his arms,” Bourgeois answered, enjoying the sight of Alix pinching her own cheek, Milene grabbing at the desk so as not to fall down, and Kim staring at the couple, forgetting that one needs to blink.

Nino was the first one to gain control of himself.

“Are you really Marinette?” he asked. He couldn’t see the girl’s face, still pressed against Adrien’s shoulder, but he did remember perfectly the recording of his former classmate’s murder. Over the seven years that passed since that day, there was nothing to indicate Dupain-Cheng could be alive, the girl never gave any sign of that. So, was it truly Marinette in front of him, or merely someone resembling her and using her name?

“Well, for the past few years my name was Emma,” the brunette whispered quietly, as she carefully pulled herself away from Adrien. “Hi, Nino,” she smiled as she looked at her old friend. “Hi, Alya,” Marinette looked at her BFF guiltily. “It’s been awhile, fellows,” the girl waved at her old classmates before getting off the desk and standing next to Agreste. “I’m back.”

The walls of Collège Françoise Dupont shook with joyful screams.

***

Alya was watching the events as if they were a dream. The brunette pulling away from Adrien, her looking at Alya with the blue eyes of her late friend, her being surrounded with the former classmates. Them screaming something, asking, giving congratulations… but Alya heard none of that, as if a thick fog was separating her from the rest of the world.

Her best friend was dead, no matter how much Madame Lahiffe wanted to believe otherwise.

But then, how come this girl looks _so much_ like _her_ Marinette? Why the same eyes, same smile, same voice? Why the same guilty-bashful lip biting, unique to Dupain-Cheng alone?

If this is some kind of joke – then it’s way too cruel.

Alya had to bury her best friend once already. She won’t survive a second time.

“I told you she’s alive,” Agreste’s smug voice reached the tatters of her awareness. True, he had insisted many times that since Marinette’s body was never found, she cannot be considered dead. But despite him telling that, the recording of the event didn’t allow his words to be believed. Too little chance of surviving something like that.

Could Adrien have been right?

“But how?” the voice seemed to belong to Alix. The ‘fog’ was too thick for Alya to be sure. “No hospital had you, and there in no way one survives that kind of wounds without professional help.”

“And where’ve you been all this time?” she was interrupted with Milene’s voice. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“I’m sorry,” the voice, so similar to Marinette’s, was echoing through her mind. Alya wanted so much to believe her lost friend was in front of her. Yet she was also afraid of the disappointment should it be a lie.

“Marinette, what are you apologizing for?” that was the voice of Madame Lahiffe’s husband; the only one she could hear clearly. “We’re so happy you’re alive! Aren’t we, Alya?”

They’re asking whether she’s happy that Marinette is alive?

Yes, if her best friend did return from the dead – that’ll be one of the best days in her life! But was it so? Could it truly be Marinette in front of her, rather than an imposter hiding behind her name and looks? Except… for an imposter, that girl looks _too much_ like Dupain-Cheng. True, the pigtails had been replaced by a bob cut, the facial features are more mature now – but the eyes are still the same. No, this could be no imposter. An illusion, perhaps? No, too realistic for a mass hallucination.

Could this actually be Marinette? Her talented, cheerful friend? Her friend, who used to always stutter in embarrassment in front of Adrien Agreste? Her friend, who’d been making out with that very Agreste in front of the whole class just a couple minutes ago.

Damn it, so it was _her_ bra Alya found in the Dupain-Cheng house?

“Am I happy?” a hysterical laugh came out of Madame Lahiffe’s mouth. “I’m gonna send you back to the grave for not telling me you’re alive!”

***

Marinette was enclosed in a ring of former classmates. Each one was expressing their most sincere joy, showering her with congratulations over her ‘resurrection’, asking countless questions.

Each one, except for the person whose reaction mattered the most to Marinette.

“We’re so happy you’re alive!” Nino exclaimed most sincerely, while his wife was yet to say a single word. “Aren’t we, Alya?”

Hopefully, Dupain-Cheng looked at her best friend, standing away from the others, staring with a hollow stare into nothingness, and gulped down the lump in her throat.

Why isn’t Alya saying anything? Why isn’t she coming closer? Did Marinette do something wrong? Did she somehow upset the one who was closer to her than a sister?

Why was Madame Lahiffe yet to answer her husband’s question?

Marinette was barely holding in her tears, struggling desperately to keep a friendly smile on her face. If not for Adrien’s silent support, his grip tight on her hand, she would have lost control by now. Damn it, was Alya upset at her over something?

“Am I happy?” Madame Lahiffe’s hysterical laugh made Marinette flinch and grip Adrien’s hand tighter. “I’m gonna send you back to the grave for not telling me you’re alive!”

There was no holding back the tears anymore.

***

There was no holding back the tears anymore.

Marinette – a _living_ Marinette – was right before her. Except, thanks to these damn emotions, instead of words of joy, she was hearing threats… but that could be forgiven, right? No one would actually think Alya was upset at her best friend being back?

“Why didn’t you let us know you’re okay?” Madame Lahiffe wanted to say how happy she is at Marinette being well, yet only reproaches came out of her mouth. “Why haven’t you ever called?”

“Alya… I…” Marinette’s voice wavered, but her friend couldn’t stop.

“Do you have any idea _what_ it was like, for us to hear you couldn’t have survived? When we had to bury an empty casket? Almost every month I went to your grave and prayed for that day to be nothing but a horrible dream.”

“Alya, stop,” Agreste snarled as Nino placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, hoping to calm her down.

“I would have understood if you were too far to communicate,” Madame Lahiffe regretted every word coming out of her mouth, but some overpowering force was driving her to continue. “But just last week you were at your parents’! Why didn’t you come down to us? Am I such a bad friend I don’t deserve your trust?”

Alya’s shoulders were shaking, black streaks of mascara were running down her face. For the first time in her life, she was being torn apart by such a hurricane of feelings; her soul rejoicing, ready to squeal and jump around from the sudden happiness; her face governed by tears, and her tongue insisting on its traitorous torrent of scorn.

“I would have dropped everything to help you!” a scream full of despair came out of her chest. “I would have taken these bullets myself, just so that you didn’t have to! God, Marinette,” Alya stepped toward her friend. “I’m so happy you’re alive!” pushing Adrien away, Madame Lahiffe flung herself at Marinette, hugging her as hard as she could. “I forgive you everything, all your silence, just promise never to die anymore. You hear me? Never!”

“Forgive me, Alya,” Marinette whispered, head now pressed against her best friend’s shoulder.

“Welcome back,” she answered with a sniffle.

***

The inquiries had lasted throughout the evening. Time after time, Marinette was forced to give the same answers, even though everyone asking was in the same room and could hear every word. The official version, put together by Nathalie in order to keep the identities secret, stated that Dupain-Cheng was an accidental witness to a deal between Alain Dupree and a senior Triad member, hence an attempt to silence her. She was hiding from everyone because she was afraid for her life; there was no evidence to support any claims about the police chief. At last, thanks to help from Chat Noir and Chloé (who kept emphasizing throughout that it was her who found Marinette rather than Adrien), she managed to return home safely. Chat Noir had already given an interview stating that Liu Jin had tried to blackmail Alain Dupree, leading into a fight in which the two men had killed each other. As it was, the hero of Paris had recorded part of their conversation on his staff, enough for a definite proof of the police chief’s guilt.

Adrien did ask that the former classmates keep that information secret for now, to keep Marinette free from flocks of sensation-hungry reporters. The classmates were all understanding to the last person.

And even though they really wanted to tell the world that the former class president, who had helped all of them so many times, is alive and well, for her sake they were willing to keep silent.

***

“And now I want the real truth,” Alya stated firmly, sitting in the Dupain-Cheng living room. It’s been three days since the reunion and Marinette’s ‘resurrection’; more than enough for the reporter to find a few discrepancies in the official version of the events.

“I’ve been expecting you to say that,” Marinette smiled softly. Over these three days, the two friends had discussed a lot over the phone (not least because Madame Lahiffe was busy with her baby daughter), but never touched the subject of the past seven years. That was no discussion for a phone. Which is why little Marie had once again been left at the care of the younger Césaire, Nino had dragged Adrien away (they had a lot to discuss as well), and Alya once again came to visit her best friend.

“So, I was right, and the matter isn’t that simple after all,” Madame Lahiffe crossed her legs. Her eyes had that familiar flame of curiosity and a drive to find the truth at all costs, reminding Marinette of the times when Mademoiselle Césaire was chasing Ladybug, desperate to take off her mask.

“Alain Dupree wasn’t the shot-caller, merely a middleman,” Marinette admitted as she poured her friend a cup of tea. “It was another man who wanted to kill me.”

“Who?” Alya asked worriedly. Was her best friend still in danger?

“Everything’s fine,” Marinette bit her lip. She thought so long about how she’ll tell Alya everything, yet now, she couldn’t find the words. “He’s dead as well.”

“But why are you and Agreste hiding his identity?” confusion was obvious in her friend’s voice.

Dupain-Cheng sighed, not sure where to start her answer. There was so much to tell, but what should come first? Preparing Alya morally? Just stating everything bluntly to her face?

Licking her dry lips, Marinette whispered:

“The hit was ordered by Hawk Moth. A month earlier, I took his Miraculous away, and he learned I’m Ladybug.”

***

“You’re _who_?” Nino could swear nothing he had ever heard in his life shocked him that much. Even Marinette’s resurrection seemed minor compared to what he was hearing from his best friend.

“Chat Noir,” Adrien sighed. From his tone, one could think he was discussing the most mundane things.

“Chat Noir, the Hero of Paris?” Lahiffe hurried to clarify.

“The very same one.”

“And Marinette, does she know?”

“She’s Ladybug.”

These news were threatening to leave Alya a widow, since Monsieur Lahiffe was about to enter the list of people who died from choking on air.

“That’s not all,” Agreste grinned weakly. His friend’s reaction was amusing, but the deep sorrow in his eyes showed how much his next words hurt him. “My father used to be Hawk Moth, and he was the one to sic Liu Jin on Marinette.”

Whatever joke Nino made up on the subject of the heroic duo, flew out of his head. It was very uncommon for Lahiffe to look that serious.

“Bro, you can tell me everything that bothers you,” he said as he patted his friend on the shoulder.

There was a reason Nino Lahiffe always had a bottle of beer in his car.

***

“Everything seems to be fine with them,” Kurtzberg said as he recalled his white-winged servants.

“Did you have to watch them?” Mademoiselle Bourgeois inquired as she crossed her arms. The rumor of the mayor’s daughter having brought a redheaded guy to her quarters had probably spread among the hotel workers already, but Kurtzberg couldn’t wear his hero suit in public due to the old Hawk Moth’s reputation, and being stuck in his tiny room was impossible for Chloé due to her sense of aesthetics.  Besides, she was immensely annoyed at all the Marinette portraits on the walls. Of course, Bourgeois had nothing against Dupain-Cheng herself, but Nathaniel should really get rid of the pictures. After all, Marinette was with Adrien now.

“Wasn’t it you who said she wants to know how Nino and Alya will react to the reveal?” Kurtzberg raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I did,” Bourgeois confirmed, shuffling her feet in embarrassment. “But you could have done it without telling me, so that we won’t be accomplices.”

“What, does Mademoiselle ‘Do-you-have-any-idea-who-my-father-is’ refuse to cooperate with mere mortals?” Nathaniel grinned, perfectly aware that wasn’t the case, but enjoying the blonde’s reaction to his words.

“Can a hero of Paris be called a mere mortal?” the girl averted her eyes. “And why would you think I don’t cooperate with you? Last time, weren’t we… working together?”

Hawk Moth approached Chloé from behind and whispered into her ear:

“You mean, when you accepted my butterfly’s power?”

Once again, a wave of goosebumps rushed all over Mademoiselle Bourgeois’ body. She wasn’t under the Moth Lord’s power now, so why the hell did his voice still affect her like that? Charming, seductive, seemingly created to be heard by her. At least, Chloé was hoping no one heard Nathaniel speaking with _such_ a tone.

“Could you answer one question?” the whisper was driving Chloé mad, making her wonder whether she might be under a butterfly’s control again. Or perhaps the white-winged insect never left her in the first place after the victory? But Chloé did see the moth return to its master once she had detransformed back from Copybug.

“Ask away,” Chloé breathed out, completely incapable of resisting.

“What did you feel when the old Hawk Moth made you into Antibug?”

“Can’t remember,” she admitted honestly.

“But you do remember everything that happened while you were under my butterfly’s influence?”

“I do.”

“And what did you feel?” From Kurtzberg’s voice, it was obvious to Chloé that he, capable of reading human hearts, knew the answer already. And from his tone, the girl understood _what_ was hiding behind the question.

His voice was made for her ears. She was made for his butterflies. A perfect union, or at least the potential for one.

Bourgeois spun to face her once classmate, now a hero of Paris, who had turned her entire world upside down. He was asking what Chloé felt while under his butterfly’s influence? Well, let him hear the answer.

“An orgasm,” Mademoiselle Bourgeois whispered against Nathaniel Kurtzberg’s lips. “And I hope there’ll be more.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes:
> 
> A bit about the story arcs and Marinette's misfortunes. To avoid spoilers, the summary doesn't have the story arcs, so I'll allow myself to list them here, along with pointing out what were Marinette's misfortunes in each ark (which is why these were seven as well).
> 
> 1) The Beginning - chapters 1-3 - seven bullets and a ticket off the Seine bridge, plus Emma Lee's life in general.  
> 2) The Chinatown Uproar - Chapters 4-7 - Marinette is dragged into Triad matters, didn't get the package.  
> 3) A Goddess - Marinette is spotted by Chloé.  
> 4) The Return - Chapters 12-15 - Chat changes her life completely, something she really feared at first.  
> 5) The Textile Magnate's death - Chapters 17-19 - Don't forget to pick up your bras.  
> 6) The Triad - Chapters 20-22 - Don't leave the house without your Chat.  
> 7) The Finale - Chapters 23-25 - Don't make Alya worry.


	25. Dupain-Cheng No More

“Do I look okay?” Marinette asked Adrien nervously for the hundredth time. Today, her parents were returning, and the young woman was extremely worried after seven years of not seeing them.

“You look as beautiful as ever,” Adrien said in a singsong voice as he tucked a lock of hair behind his love’s ear.

“Silly Kitty, I’m serious!” the indignant Dupain-Cheng spun on her heels to check for the fifteenth time whether the shelves were dust-free. After all, the house must be perfect; Sabine must not think these years had made her clumsy daughter into a slob! Alas, the sudden movement made the lock of hair slip out again, at which Adrien sighed wearily.

“Relax, Princess, everything will be fine,” he said and was ignored again.

“And what is this?!” Marinette squealed as she opened the kitchen cabinet to check it was in order as well.

“Whoops,” was all the maskless hero could say as he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.

“-Whoops- what?” the furious girl shook the lacy bra in front of her boyfriend’s face. “This is the second week I’ve been looking for it everywhere! And can you imagine Mom or – God spare me – Dad opening the cabinet to find it?”

“These were e _murr_ gency measures,” with a smile, Agreste pecked his love in the forehead, “I had to hide it from Alya. Marinette, how about this. You calm down now,” he offered, “and I won’t be punning for _a week_.”

“Two.”

“Deal,” Adrien grinned. “I’m going to the airport; when I return, you’re supposed to be here.”

“What, do you think I’m going somewhere?” Marinette asked with an offended pout and crossed arms.

“I don’t – I’m afraid you are.”

***

This time, watching that Marinette stays at home was entrusted to Nathaniel, Chloé, Nathalie and Alya. Out of the four, Nathalie was the only one at the bakery with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. Madame Lahiffe was video chatting with her friend, constantly showing off her little daughter, while Chloé and Nathaniel were ‘keeping an eye’ on their friend from ‘Le Grand Paris’. To be precise, the girl was being watched by Kurtzberg’s butterflies, the fresh couple itself being busy with other, no less important matters. These were not conditions allowing Marinette to run off, even without the fact she had no intention to leave this time.

Besides, where would one go when barely able to stand from nerves?

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, I believe it would be best for you to sit down,” Nathalie spoke her mind. Alya was momentarily busy with changing her daughter’s diapers, while Marinette, having spent a full thirty-five seconds without being pierced by the calmingly withering gaze of her best friend, was gripping her head as she paced in circles around the table.

“Nathalie is right,” confirmed Tikki, really worried about her charge’s condition. It’s been a very long time since she saw Ladybug in such a state; even the return home didn’t make Dupain-Cheng panic like that.

“Yes,” the girl made another circle. “Sit down. I need to sit down.”

Without Adrien, her unrest just kept growing, making her really sorry she didn’t go to the airport with him. On the other hand, the perspective of sobbing while being embraced by her parents in front of a crowd (and she was most certain she would break down as soon as she felt her Mom and Dad’s warmth again) wasn’t appealing.

Marinette did manage to sit on the couch, even though that required help from Nathalie, who had to force the unresisting girl into her place.

After all, how could she resist when an endless torrent of thoughts was forcing itself into her head? What if her parents won’t recognize her? What if Marinette herself won’t recognize them? What if they will miss Adrien, arrive without him, and decide to kick the uninvited guest out of their house?

Fortunately, just as Marinette started thinking up ways to explain to Mom and Dad that she’s their long-lost daughter, Madame Lahiffe once again appeared on the laptop’s screen, forcing her friend to try and grab a hold of herself once again. To an extent, she was successful; at least, at the third attempt, Marinette did manage to get Nathalie’s calming tea to her mouth.

***

If there was one person Sabine Cheng could fail to recognize, it was Adrien Agreste. She had only seen his smiling like that on photos, and seven-year-old ones at that. Fully aware of the reason for the hero’s constant depression (after all, they were united by common grief), the woman licked her lips, dry from anxiety. The mother’s heart clenched, feeling a spark of hope, but Sabine forced that spark down, not allowing it to grow into a flame.

Adrien wasn’t saying anything, and Madame Cheng didn’t dare to ask him – too afraid to hear she guessed wrong.

God, how lucky her husband was to possess no feminine intuition! Because Tom Dupain seemed genuinely convinced that Adrien had decided to finally listen to his advice and start _living_.

The way from the airport to the bakery was incredibly long for Sabine. And that despite Agreste’s driver taking the shortest route, and all the traffic lights miraculously being green in their path. Madame Cheng was constantly pressing an arm against her chest, checking whether her heart was still beating, or did her anxiety shut it down a long time ago.

Sabine was doing her best not to look at Adrien. Every accidental glance at the happy boy convinced her further and further that she didn’t make anything up, that all these years of waiting were finally over… but the fear these hopes would prove false refused to leave her.

She caught herself having once again opened her mouth to ask the question which was so important to her, but came to her senses in time to pretend she was merely yawning. Too horrible was the possibility of hearing Marinette had not been found yet. But neither was Sabine ready to hear her daughter was waiting at home; that would make the already long ride to the bakery an eternity, and the wait for the reunion – into a horrible torture.

Matters should take their own course.

***

Despite the decision not to rush the events, Madame Cheng leaped out of the car the moment it stopped in front of the bakery. Ignoring the shout of her surprised husband, the mother, full of torturous hope for the return of her only child, jerked the main door open, ran up the stairs to the second floor, entered the living room and…

…found Nathalie Sancoeur there, busy with paperwork.

The secretary, and now a co-owner of _Gabriel_ stood up to greet the hostess on her return from China. Nathalie was saying something, but Madame Cheng heard nothing.

Not seeing the one she expected in the living room, Sabine froze, completely unresponsive to outside stimuli.

_She made it **all** up._

She interpreted Adrien’s behavior as her aching heart wanted, instead of her mind.

She had fooled herself, and now she had to suffer the pain of her expectations turning out to be an illusion. Good thing she managed to keep silent, keep her guess from Tom! The disappointment would have destroyed him…

A pair of feminine hands gently hugged Sabine Cheng from behind. She felt someone laying a chin on her shoulder.

“I’m back, Mom,” Every night for the past seven years, the mother had been hearing this voice in her dreams. “Mommy, dear, I’m home.”

Slowly, as if afraid to scare her fortune away, Sabine turned to face her daughter for a hug. The tearstained, yet so familiar face she would have recognized among a thousand. No, among eight billion. In seven years, her baby had become a grown-up woman; a beautiful woman – that Sabine could tell despite the daughter’s eyes being red from crying.

The last thing the mother saw before tears obscured her own sight, was Tom entering the room and fainting.

***

Nathalie had left a while ago, and Adrien, smiling warmly, was looking at the finally reunited family. Monsieur Dupain was the one to have cried the most and the hardest, refusing to let the daughter out of his embrace for even a single second. For the past few hours, Tom and Sabine were hugging their child; no questions asked, were caressing her head, back, arms; no words spoken, looking at how much their little Marinette had grown.

Only now did Marinette herself feel like she really returned home.

And only now did she realize just _how much_ she missed her parents’ warmth.

The girl was feeling like these seven years never happened – her parents were so close, like if they’d been with her all along – and yet, at the same time, was feeling the pain all the more clearly, realizing how wide an abyss had been separating them all these years. How many times did Marinette not say ‘Good morning!’ to her Mom and Dad, and did not hear ‘have a nice day!’ in return? How many meals did she have to take with only the tiny kwami for company, how many tears did she shed into her pillow, how many nightmares hadn’t been scared away by her mother’s goodnight kiss? How many lousy moods had not been vaporized by just her father’s smile?

There was one consolation; Marinette will have even _more_ of these little daily joys yet.

***

“So, you were living as Emma Lee?” the sky had grown dark outside hours ago, but no one was paying attention. The two kwamis were the only ones asleep in ‘Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie’ tonight. Tom and Sabine had finally managed to calm their emotions down a bit and were now interrogating their daughter about how she had spent these years. Adrien was sitting next to them and only occasionally adding to the conversation.

Like now, for example.

“I think that name doesn’t sound right at all,” he spoke his opinion, to which Tom and Sabine nodded vigorously.

“And what does?” Dupain-Cheng looked at him indignantly. Seriously; how much could one criticize the name under which she had been living for six whole years?

“Marinette Agreste,” Adrien shot out without hesitation. Marinette choked, while her parents were once again both supporting the hero of Paris with their nods.

“Adrien will make a good son-in-law,” Monsieur Dupain said proudly as he patted his future relative on the shoulder.

“Besides, he already has my and Tom’s blessing,” smiling, Madame Cheng winked at her daughter.

“I already asked Nathalie to start the wedding planning,” Agreste was beaming as he spoke. “And Chloé is already busy with the invitations.”

“And how come I am the last one to learn about that?” Marinette’s question remained unheard. Tom and Sabine were already arguing about the type and design of the cake they’ll make for the happy occasion.

Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng did not participate in the conversation anymore.

Smiling as she listened to her parents and future husband planning the event, Marinette was working on the wedding dress design.

***

“Are you certain it’s a good idea?” Nathaniel asked cautiously as he took his favorite armchair in Mademoiselle Bourgeois’ room.

“I’ve always dreamed of standing next to Adrikins at the altar,” Chloé stated firmly as she sat down on Kurtzberg’s lap. “So, I believe Marinette will have to budge up a bit.”

“When I saw in your heart you will say yes,” the owner of the Butterfly Miraculous was interrupted by a kiss, but allowed to continue shortly. “I never expected it to be _this_ soon.”

“Either a double wedding, or you won’t be getting my hand!” an ultimatum followed promptly. “And don’t forget to sign the prenuptial agreement.”

“You mean the one with a separate paragraph stating, ‘butterfly empowerment is to be reserved for wife exclusively’?”

“That paragraph, just so you know, is _the_ most important one,” Chloé ran her fingers through her fiancée’s red hair. And should you try breaking it, remember; my BFF is Ladybug.”

“My stag party is same day as Chat Noir’s,” Nate parried.

“I’ve got connections in the Chinese mafia,” the blonde nibbled on her beloved’s ear.

“My future father-in-law is the mayor of Paris.”

“For bringing back their daughter, I was promised free goods in the best bakery of France for the rest of my life.”

“I was promised the same for three years of watching over a certain missing heroine,” Nathaniel smiled. “So that doesn’t count.”

Still-Bourgeois-for-now wrinkled her nose as she considered her next move. Knowing Ladybug and Chat Noir – used up already. The father trump card – brought up by Nathaniel himself. Mafia connections – used up. And could it be called connections when she had only seen Madame Zhou and Madame Yu a whole of three times? The day she first became Copybug thanks to Nathaniel, a week later, when her and Marinette came to visit Madame Yu in the underground clinic, and three days ago, when Madame Zhou came to ‘Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie’ in order to inform them that the new leader of the French Triad branch is being sent from China, and get the promise of the heroes’ support should he be a dangerous one. Saying that she knows the President of France? Elections were coming up – that ‘card’ will expire any day now. Naming the director of the movie she was in? That wasn’t a person Kurtzberg cared about one little bit. What else was there?..

“And my former classmate is married to an actual prince!” she finally fired off.

“And my former classmate will soon become the wife of an actual Lord of Butterflies,” thus, Nathaniel still managed to have the last word.

***

Fourteen years ago, all the walls of her room were covered in posters of the beautiful green-eyed blond, Adrien Agreste, who was not only a renowned model, friend and classmate, but the target of an unrequited love. Seven years ago, that love appeared to be but a dim memory, and the only Agreste photo, hanging on her door, was, for one thing, that of his father, Gabriel, and for another, being used as a dartboard. And now, Adrien Agreste was not only her faithful partner, good friend and loving husband, but also the father of her three children.

Also, she no longer called herself Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

**It was _Madame Agreste._**

 


	26. Epilogue: Forgiveness and Farewells

Adrien let out a heavy sigh. The gray gloom reigning around was matching his mood perfectly. A sullen sky, covered with heavy clouds, seemed to reflect the state of his soul. Such clouds tend to bring strong rains, yet these didn’t pour out a drop, just like Adrien’s eyes didn’t shed a single tear. Adrien wasn’t sure whether he was feeling anything at the moment, or even whether he could. He had assumed he might someday find himself in such a situation, but thought that his soul will be a hurricane of emotions pouring out in an endless torrent of words. And now, the man had no idea where to start the conversation. There was so much he wanted to speak out, to share, yet now all thoughts had abandoned his head along with the feelings, leaving nothing but a frighteningly lifeless void inside Agreste.

Adrien was feeling nothing; no spite, no sadness, no hatred, no sorrow, no grief, no annoyance, as if the gravestone before which he stood belonged to a complete stranger. Except the golden inscription engraved upon the gray surface was proving otherwise.

 

Gabriel Agreste  
19XX-20XX

 

“Well, hello, father,” was a barely audible whisper, as if the man was afraid to disturb the silence of the graveyard.

For the first time in the seven years since Gabriel Agreste’s suicide, Adrien had come to his father’s grave. The time when the son was struggling with all his might to get his sole parent’s recognition and attention, was so distant, as if it all happened in a different, someone else’s life.

“You know, once I was terribly happy to get a scarf for my birthday, apparently from you,” Adrien spoke, shifting the gaze from the gravestone to his feet. The habit of looking impeccably in front of his father was showing itself even now, in his shining patent leather shoes. “Yet the truth is, that scarf was a present from Marinette. I wonder; was there a single present in my life I got _from you_?”

A crow cawed in the distance, the sky answering it in a roll of thunder. But there was no answer the dead man could give his son.

“You even took away my chance for revenge,” Adrien continued after licking his dry lips. “It’s simply a miracle _she_ managed to survive that day. Had Plagg not told me Marinette is alive, I would have definitely blown out my own brains next. Or maybe…” the man gulped down the lump in his throat. He never told anyone that, as if afraid to admit how much he was like his father. “Or maybe, I would have followed in your steps, searching for any possibility to bring her back, no matter the cost.”

Letting out a bitter chuckle, Adrien gazed at the sky. Another lightning flash pierced the leaden clouds, but there was no rain yet.

“It’s so disgusting to realize,” the man said through gritted teeth, his face twisted, “but I can understand why you were sending out all these villains. You know, _that_ I could have forgiven you. Maybe not right away, but someday. I can understand what you felt when you lost Mom… But you weren’t the only one who lost her. I, too,” Adrien’s voice wavered, “had it hard without her. And I had it hard without you. You were alive, yet not in my life. I wonder, if you had ever found just a bit of time to give me instead of your butterflies, could we have avoided all that? If I had the chance to see you not just through a tablet screen, could I have stopped you, perhaps?”

His teeth clenched, Adrien looked at his father’s grave again. He still had nightmares of Marinette’s frail body being pierced by those seven bullets, one after another. To these days, when waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, the man could only relax by clinging to his wife, making sure her breath and heartbeat were there, right next to him.

“I can understand why you were terrorizing the city,” Adrien clenched his fists hard. “But why, damn it, did you try to take Marinette’s life? It would not have given you the brooch back, no way to keep trying to bring back Mom… What did you get from it?” Agreste asked in a trembling voice. “What, to Hell with you, did you achieve?!” the man shouted out, a flock of crows taking flight, cawing loudly. “She was no threat to you! She had no intention to tell anyone. She didn’t even tell _me_. Marinette gave you a second chance, allowed you to return to a normal life, no Miraculouses, no villainy, none of the rest… You could have tried to become a father to me again… Why did you decide to kill her instead?!”

A lonely raindrop fell onto the gravestone, dissolving in the gray surface as if never there. Gripping his hair, fingers clenched right next to the roots, Adrien turned away from the grave, not wanting to accidentally smash the damn gravestone apart in a fit of anger.

“But you know what’s the most ridiculous part?” the man sighed wearily. “She was the one who convinced me to come here.”

Adrien fell silent. Neither crows nor thunder strikes dared break the quiet. Only the wind kept creaking the barren tree branches.

“I would have never come here of my own will,” Adrien continued after an overly long pause. “I would have gladly erased you from my life, would have forgotten there was ever anything connecting us. But Marinette keeps reminding me you are my father.”

Biting his lip, Agreste kicked a pebble. His thoughts refused to form into words, but, having arrived, Adrien had to speak his mind.

“She’s incredible,” the man admitted with a bashful smile. “My Lady has all the right to hate me for being the son of a man who hurt her so much. Yet I never heard a single word of scorn from her. More than that, she keeps saying I should _forgive_ you,” a nervous chuckle came from the young Agreste’s lips. “She insists it’s enough that she hates you…”

With his thumb, Adrien caressed his wedding ring. He still feared that one day, he’ll wake up and find out his beloved’s return was nothing but a dream.

“The other day, Louis asked what grandpa was like,” the young father said as he scratched the back of his head. “I couldn’t even answer. I simply had nothing to tell him. How could I tell a child his grandpa tried to kill his mom?”

Another forked lightning bold split the sky in half, the loud rumble in its wake drowning out the quiet curse coming from the mouth of the hero of Paris.

“I remember my Mandarin teacher once giving an assignment, to write a paper about family… I filled fifteen pages with the story of how much I wanted to get your recognition,” Adrien whispered, as if afraid someone will overhear. “Now, all I can think about is how you almost made me lose the love of my life. I couldn’t have managed without her, father,” the man clenched his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. “Yes, these days, I have Emma, Louis and Hugo, but back then, I only had you and my Lady. And it was you who almost took her away from me.”

Raindrops started falling from the sky one by one, leaving dark blotches on the gray gravestones and the ground.

“And Marinette… she did answer,” Adrien raised his face to let the raindrops wash over it. “She said Grandpa Gabriel was a great designer, that he was dedicating himself to work selflessly, that he all but revolutionized the fashion world. That it’s only thanks to you that we’re living in such a big house. We’ve built it recently… My Lady’s own design. And you know, this house is so much cozier than our old mansion… And when Louis said that he wants to be like grandpa, she smiled. Do you get it, she smiled!” Adrien shouted desperately. “Could you have smiled after hearing such a thing? Ah, what am I talking about,” the man chuckled. “I can’t remember you ever smiling. I can’t remember anything good about you, period!” he shot out.

Closing his eyes, Adrien tried to calm down. He still carried sedative pills in his pocket, even though nothing rid him of his attacks like the tender voice of his wife. Right now, the simplest thing to do would have been calling her; that would have silenced the hammering in his temples, stopped the trembling of his hands, driven away the nausea at his throat, but the man could not afford such weakness in front of his father’s grave. Gabriel Agreste used to be famous for his self-control, and so Adrien believed he had no right to appear pathetic in front of his grave. Especially since he was Chat Noir, the hero of Paris, who must be steadfast in front of a foe – even a dead one.

“Emma is so much like Mom,” the man continued once his trembling was under control. “Not Marinette; my Mom. She is terrifyingly restless, yet can get along with anyone. I think she could have made even you smile. Louis is constantly drawing something. My Lady is saying he has real talent, while Nathalie is all but praying that Lou doesn’t drop that hobby. And Hugo is only just learning to walk… He is so much like Marinette, it’s just scary. And do you know what his first word was? It wasn’t ‘Mom’, it wasn’t ‘Dad’… He said ‘Silly Kitty’,” Adrien gave a small laugh. “Plagg keeps reminding me of that every day.”

The little kwami stayed in the car, waiting for Adrien. However close him and Adrien were, a lot of what Agreste had spoken _already_ , he could have never said in his presence. Because there was a lot Adrien had a problem admitting even to himself. If not for Marinette, who insisted that a son should not renounce his father, no matter how much of a bastard he was, as well as Tom and Sabine, who supported their daughter fully, despite knowing it was Gabriel Agreste who had almost taken their girl away, Adrien would never have come to this cemetery.

“My lady has wonderful parents,” Adrien rubbed his nose bashfully. “They treat me like their own son. They showed me more care that I ever got from you… no wonder such people have raised such a wonderful daughter.”

Adrien smiled, recalling how Tom Dupain, with tear-filled eyes, was begging him to take care of Marinette on their wedding day, how Sabine was literally dragging her husband away from the newlyweds to let them have their wedding night. Perhaps, had they moved out of the bakery earlier, there would have been more children in the Agreste house now?

Putting his hands in his pockets and giving a habitual squeeze to the pill jar, Adrien thought about his children. Just seven years ago, he had thought there will never be anymore happiness in his life, that, even should he find Marinette, there is no way Gabriel Agreste’s son will ever be allowed by her side. Yet now, Adrien met every new day with her in the same bed, their house was full of kids’ laughter, and all that reminded of the past grief were seven white scars on his love’s body.

“Marinette did learn to live in the present,” Agreste sighed. “She hardly ever recalls the past.”

A thunder rumbled at a distance, as the last raindrops ran down Adrien’s face alongside the first tears.

“And me… I’m still stuck in that time,” his voice was trembling. “I’m still sorry you didn’t get to die by my hand, still afraid my Lady will vanish again, still refuse to let her leave the house alone.”

Through clenched teeth, Adrien took in a whistling breath. He made his Lady a promise that he will at least try to let go of the past, starting with a visit to his father’s grave. That first step was unbelievably hard, but he made it. Marinette, too, had made a difficult step a few days ago; Ladybug returned to Paris, blowing up all the news agencies with her sudden reappearance. The heroes were even forced to cut their patrol short in order to hide from the pesky paparazzi.

“How I pity you, father,” Adrien whispered as he touched the wet gravestone. “You took everything away from yourself. For so many years, I blamed myself for letting you out of my sight, for allowing you to turn away from the right path… I considered myself a lousy son, who didn’t notice what was happening. But it was you who always kept me away from yourself. It was you who didn’t let us become a real family. Only after becoming a father myself, did I realize a family cannot be built with the efforts of just one side. I swear, my kids will never go through what I did. I will never lock myself from them in my study, and even should something happen, I’m sure they’re the ones who will keep me straight. I won’t suffer your fate, father.”

Adrien looked at the sky again. The clouds were clearing, the bright sunlight making the man squint.

“You gave me the most valuable lesson of all,” the man said with a parting look at the grave. “Thanks for showing me what I must never become. And farewell. I don’t think I’ll ever come here again.”

Brushing the wet locks from his face, Adrien turned away from father’s grave.

“Although, seven years ago, I didn’t think I’ll ever find myself here in the first place.”


End file.
